


In Plain Sight

by LollipopCop



Series: Pretend For Me [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Companion Piece, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Kiss, First Time, Holding Hands, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Romance, Sharing a Bed, both think it's unrequited
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-18 08:20:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21741256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LollipopCop/pseuds/LollipopCop
Summary: Right, so. The love of his life asked to be in a fake relationship with him. How was Crowley not supposed to lose his mind over that? How was he supposed to hide how he melted like an ice cream cone in the sun when Aziraphale held his hand?Companion piece toPretend For Me,from Crowley's POV.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Pretend For Me [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1567048
Comments: 123
Kudos: 871





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY so this is a companion piece to the main story that's told in Aziraphale's point of view. I highly recommend reading that one first, because this story will speed through some of the events in the main fic to avoid too much repetition. However, this story will have some scenes exclusive to Crowley's POV. With that said, this will NOT be as long as Pretend For Me.  
> I'm just writing this because some people suggested it, and I really love this universe and wish I could write it forever :)

Crowley should have known the past two years had been too peaceful, too normal, and that something would come along soon to shake things up. He never would have imagined having this conversation, though. It was like something out of his dreams. It was like a sick joke by God.

“They came to the bookshop,” Aziraphale said, recounting his conversation with the archangels. “They wanted to know how I survived hellfire so they could utilize the method in the eventual war against Hell.”

“What did you tell them?” Crowley asked intently. He was nervous, but Aziraphale was here on his sofa, so he must have come up with something believable. He had been napping when Aziraphale knocked on his door, and normally, he loved a surprise visit from him, but as soon as he said the angels came to the book shop, Crowley knew this was more of a business call. They spent more time than ever since the averted apocalypse, but Crowley always wanted more. They didn’t have to look over their shoulder anymore while hanging out, but it was all strictly friendly. Crowley didn’t think he felt the same way, so he shouldn’t have been disappointed, but he was. Sometimes, in the past, Aziraphale would say or do something that made Crowley think that _maybe_ it wasn’t all one-sided, but nothing was holding them back anymore and yet Aziraphale never made a move, for two years. Crowley could take a hint. Ugh, he was getting distracted. He needed to focus on this conversation.

“W-well, I didn’t know what to say at first. I was taken off guard, you see. I had been listening to music and reorganizing my books when they came. I thought it would have taken longe—”

“Aziraphale,” Crowley cut in, “what happened next?” He wasn’t in the mood for his rambling, not when the subject was so serious.

Aziraphale was obviously nervous. He kept averting his gaze and twiddling his thumbs, and he only stuttered when under pressure. “Yes, um. I said we’re different from every other angel and demon because we’ve been on earth so long. You came up in the conversation.”

“Yeah?” Crowley sat forward, his bent elbows on his knees. He wished he could have been there, after seeing how those archangel pricks talked to him in Heaven.

“They were suspicious. They didn't believe simply being on earth was enough to change our essences. I said our b-bond has exchanged parts of our souls.”

Crowley snickered. That sounded like something out of a cheesy romance novel—not that he ever read any. “So, a little of me is in a little of you and vice versa because we’re such good friends? And they bought that?”

Aziraphale winced. “Not exactly. Michael, you see, got the wrong idea and...thought we’re closer than we really are.”

“How so?” he cocked an eyebrow above the glasses, teasing.

“ _Quite_ close. I—they were starting to figure out it was a lie, so I had to resort to desperate measures. They would kill me and you, if they knew it was nothing but a stunt. You know that.”

Crowley didn’t know what counted as " _desperate_ _measures_ ," but he was intrigued. “Well, you’re here, so you must’ve fooled them. Spit it out.”

Aziraphale looked at the sleek coffee table in front of the sofa. His cheeks were rapidly turning bright pink.

“Uh, you okay?” Crowley asked. He only saw Aziraphale’s face turn that color when he was drunk, but he was clearly sober. Was he actually getting embarrassed? As much as Crowley teased him about his clothes and horrendous gap in knowledge on pop culture, Aziraphale was rarely fazed by any of it.

“I said our souls mixed because you and I are in a romantic and sexual relationship.”

Crowley choked on air and started coughing. What? What?! Did he really just say that?! No, it couldn’t be. He had to have been dreaming. Romantic and sexual...oh, Satan. What the hell? “Auh-fuh-mmmf, you said what?” Crowley squawked. He couldn’t sound calm even if someone paid him to try, because his heart was hammering fiercely in his chest. Nothing could have prepared him for that.

Aziraphale shook his head. “Don’t make me repeat it,” he whispered. He glanced at him from out of the corner of his eye. 

Crowley felt his ears turn hot and his brain felt like oatmeal. “Whuh...nugh...what made you think of that?” he asked, dumbfounded. Of all things, what could have made him say that? And what was with the sex bit? Didn’t angels practice abstinence? Maybe he was wrong, and Aziraphale thought about those things, too? Fuck, he was losing his mind over here.

“It...it was something they couldn’t prove to be false. Gaining immunity to hellfire in that way, I mean. That’s all. No other reason.” 

Crowley‘s heart slowed down. The assertion sounded deliberate, like a _Don’t get your hopes up, you idiot._ “...Oh.” Damn. It was nothing, then...

Aziraphale fixed his bow tie, although it wasn’t anywhere near crooked. “I’m terribly sorry, but I couldn’t think of anything else to save us.”

Crowley turned his face away, looking at the turned off television across the room. He couldn’t deal with the apology. Did he really not know, after all this time, that he loved him more than life itself? “It’s okay,” he mumbled. “You had to do what you had to do.” The way Aziraphale kept emphasizing that he only thought of that to save them hurt. The implication was clear: _Don’t take this the wrong way._ Well. It was a good thing he never tried to make a move after the apocalypse, because it wouldn’t have been reciprocated.

“The story isn’t finished.”

“It’s not?”

“No. They want me to prove I’m not lying.”

Crowley’s mind screeched to a halt. Prove it? Prove they were in a relationship? But that would mean...That...“How would you do that?”

Aziraphale reluctantly met his gaze. “By pretending as if we’re in a relationship so they could watch from afar and see for themselves. They believe you would harm me if I made an unwanted advance toward you. So, they assume that if I’m lying, your reaction would tip them off.”

Crowley nodded slowly. His hands were gripping the edge of the leather couch cushion tight enough to leave crescent-shaped fingernail marks in the material. He was trying very, very hard not to freak out. It was madness. As if he would ever harm Aziraphale if he came on to him—but he was a demon, and he wasn’t supposed to feel the white-hot ball of love deep in his essence that ignited thousands of years ago, so he guessed he couldn’t blame the archangels for thinking that. But did Aziraphale think he’d hurt him in that situation?

“I’m sorry, again,” Aziraphale said to the floor. “But if they are to believe we’re indestructible, they must be convinced we’re an—an item.”

Crowley was still as stone, because he really wanted to lean forward, seize Aziraphale by the ridiculous coat, and kiss him. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. He had to take the once in a lifetime offer he was being given. He was getting permission to act like he loved Aziraphale. It wouldn’t be enough, but it was better than what they had now. “So...if we pretend we’re in a relationship, we’ll be safe.”

“I believe so.”

“And that would, that would involve, what?” he spoke hesitantly. “Holding your hand, telling you that you mean a lot to me, kissing you for them to see?” Oh fuck, oh fuck.

Aziraphale was visibly uncomfortable. Was the idea of being with him so unpleasant? “Yes, I think so.”

“I can do that,” he croaked. He would get to kiss Aziraphale. This was the best and worst day ever, because it would all be fake.

Aziraphale lifted his eyebrows. 

Shit, was he too obvious? “Don’t make it a big deal,” he snapped. “Just. You know. The dumb mushy stuff won’t be bad if it means we’ll live.” He could never admit to anyone that all that dumb, mushy stuff became infinitely more enticing when he thought of doing it with Aziraphale. He wanted to kiss him for hours, hold him in his arms and bring him flowers and hold his hand and—

 _Shut up!_ he yelled internally.

“Quite right,” he mumbled. He looked ill at ease again. “You agree to pretend for the time being, then?”

He reclined on the sofa, trying to appear casual. “I don’t fancy dying after all we’ve been through,” he shrugged. “Are they watching us now?”

“No, I don’t think so. They don’t want to catch us, ah, in the moment.”

Crowley pressed his lips together and nodded. His ears were in fire. The thought of having sex with Aziraphale was enough to make his mouth dry, but getting caught by archangels? That would be mortifying. He imagined himself clinging to Aziraphale and crying out his love for him, and the archangels laughing. Ugh. He pushed his glasses up his nose, just now realizing that they had fallen. He needed to get it together. “They must’ve been shocked, eh? An angel with a demon, sullying himself with the Damned?”

“Extremely, before they got suspicious.”

“Would’ve liked to see the looks on their faces.” He gave a halfhearted smirk.

Aziraphale grinned, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yes, I suppose it was rather humorous upon reflection. They can’t even understand eating, let alone relationships.”

“Especially not with a demon.” He remembered Aziraphale’s words from the past: 

_“You are Fallen.”_

_“We are an_ angel _and a_ demon _. We have nothing in common.”_

He would never choose to be with a demon, would he?

“No,” Aziraphale said.

Crowley stretched an arm over the back of the couch. He was a weird mix of excited and hurt, but he couldn’t let either emotion show. He had to distance himself. “My lot understands it even less. I mean. Angels are still supposed to love, in theory, but I don’t think those bastard archangels can love anything other than themselves.”

“I suppose not,” Aziraphale considered it. “I hadn’t thought of it before.”

“But demons,” he went on, “we’re not even supposed to. It’s not in our DNA. Or, supernatural equivalent of DNA. What’s ‘DNA’ stand for again?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” he mumbled, voice strained.

Talking about love seemed to be the wrong way to go. Damn, this was hard. “The point is, you must’ve rocked their world. I’m impressed. You always were a quick-thinking bastard, despite getting locked up for bloody crepes.”

He laughed, as Crowley hoped he would. “Yes, well, I have my moments.”

“That you do.” He really was impressed by his quick thinking, as weird as the situation was. But now they had to actually fake it to the archangels. His smirk faded. “So, uh, how are we supposed to go about this?”

“I don’t know. We’ll have to show affection in public places.”

“Like at dinner?”

“Could be.”

“Are we to assume they’re just gonna watch us like creeps and have to be on our toes every time we leave this flat, or the bookshop?”

“Yes.”

They would have to go out and act like a couple in public. Bloody hell. Pretending it meant nothing would be hard. “Welp. Guess we gotta go on a date then? Get them off our trail as soon as possible.”

“I guess we do.” Aziraphale said, a weariness to his tone.

Crowley was glad he was wearing his glasses. He felt more hurt, because Aziraphale was acting like going on a date would be the most troublesome thing in the world. Whatever. Crowley would have to get through this. “I’ll pick you up for dinner tomorrow at 5? I’ll make it look real proper. I’ll even bring flowers,” he said, remembering the flowers he had growing in the other room. Might as well indulge in his fantasies a bit, right? Crowley started growing those flowers ages ago. They were sunflowers, dahlias, and morning glories. Okay, he could admit he was being a bit dramatic with those; he knew that flowers didn’t actually mean anything, but humans decided they represented unrequited love, dedicated love, and commitment. He needed _some_ kind of outlet for his stupid, bleeding heart, so why not torture some flowers while he was at it? His tormenting them meant he had the most beautiful flowers in all of London, and he already decided to give them to Aziraphale on their first “date.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Aziraphale said.

* * *

Crowley went through an existential crisis as soon as Aziraphale left. 

“Why?” he asked God. “Why are you giving me what I want, but only temporarily? Terms and conditions apply?”

He received no answer, of course.

Crowley groaned loudly and dug the heels of his palms in his eyes, rubbing them. He had no idea how to feel. He got to let some of the adoration he felt for Aziraphale show, but he had to keep it within the realm of plausible deniability. He couldn’t let him know how he actually felt, because he knew their friendship would be over. Aziraphale would never stoop low enough to love a member of the Fallen, no matter how much he differed from other angels. There were limits. Besides, Crowley didn’t know if any of their kind felt love. He didn’t know why he could, but it was his most well-guarded secret. If Hell has found out before the apocalypse, they would have killed him easily. No doubts, no questions asked. Loving was undemonic. Now that they thought he was immune to holy water? They wouldn’t kill him, but they would laugh and deride him for feeling something so soft and pure, and for an angel. They were wrong, though. Love wasn’t all goodness and joy; it hurt like a motherfucker. If the other demons knew how it felt to have the love of your life deny you were even friends, then maybe they would reconsider their feelings on the matter.

Crowley thought all of this as he prepared the bouquet for Aziraphale, because if he only got a day or so as his boyfriend, then damn it, he was going to put on a good show. He had his sunglasses to hide the inevitable disappointment when Aziraphale recoiled away from his touch, so it was fine. It was whatever. He was cool.

* * *

Their first “date” had been...all right. They ate food and Crowley got to kiss his hand, so that was definitely a plus. It was awkward as hell, though, when they got in the car. He wanted to touch Aziraphale more, both for his own selfish reasons and because he was skeptical that just hand-holding and hand-kissing would be enough for the archangels, but he needed his permission. The last thing he wanted was to go too far and make Aziraphale unhappy, but asking someone for permission to touch them wasn’t the smoothest of conversations. But he agreed, so Crowley didn’t worry too much about it.

Their next date in the park? That was different.

Some bigoted idiot decided to harass them as they walked arm-in-arm, and Crowley had no problem ensuring he had a spot in Hell.

But then Aziraphale had to go and say, “Sorry, but my husband is very protective.”

Crowley almost tripped over his own two feet, but he resolutely kept walking, his eyebrows shooting up his forehead. “So we’re married in this scenario?” Married? That was a human thing. That...was a great idea, actually.

“W-well, why not? Maybe not officially, but, but after 6,000 years?”

Crowley wasn’t looking at him, couldn’t look at him, but he heard the nerves in his tone. He swallowed hard. “Yeah, why not?” he asked quietly. He certainly wouldn’t mind indulging in that little human tradition after 6,000 years. He pictured living with Aziraphale, and waking up every morning to the image of him reading in bed. He pictured coming home from a day of messing with humans to Aziraphale’s disapproving pout, but getting a hug anyway. He really shouldn’t have been thinking this while they were touching. It was dangerous. But then his mind thought of what an actual wedding between them would be like, and he laughed. They had no friends to invite to such an event. “Who were the guests at our wedding again, husband? The mad girl with the bicycle and her boyfriend? The anti-Christ and his child friends and dog?”

Aziraphale laughed, too. “No, no, dear, it was a private thing just between us.”

“Ah, yeah, that’s right. That makes more sense.” He liked that idea, actually.

But then they walked to the old bandstand, one of their rendezvous points. They hadn’t been here since they argued during the apocalypse. He knew Aziraphale had been under immense pressure, and was going through a crisis of faith, but Crowley would be lying if he said his words hadn’t hurt.

As if reading his mind, Aziraphale murmured, “I never apologized for the things I said.”

Crowley physically tensed. “We were both stressed. Bad day.” He didn’t want to dwell on it. Demons didn’t admit their feelings were hurt.

“Still,” Aziraphale looked at him directly, blue eyes painfully earnest. “I shouldn’t have said those things. They were untrue.”

Crowley pressed his lips together, and tried to play it off with humor with a smirk. “I know you really like me, Aziraphale. You’re my husband.” That felt good to say.

Aziraphale giggled.

Crowley’s heart thumped. 

“I’m being serious, Crowley.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “It’s all right. I’m a demon. We don’t get offended.”

Aziraphale’s gaze oozed with skepticism. “Yes, you do. I’ve felt terribly about the things I’ve done over the ears. It was never because of _you_. I never wanted to reject you.”

Crowley looked down at his face, nerves prickling in his stomach. He didn’t know he wanted to hear that until now. But he didn’t know what to do with any of that. He wasn’t equipped to handle kindness. 

“Are you all right?” he asked. “You have to act like I say nice things to you all the time, remember?” he whispered.

Right. Right, right, right. He blinked and nodded imperceptibly. “Thank you,” he said in a small voice, because it seemed rude not to, and he didn’t know what else to say. Aziraphale breaking off their friendship under the bandstand stung badly, but explicitly hearing it wasn’t actually because of him made him feel better. He tensed further when he felt Aziraphale’s head drop onto his shoulder.

“Sorry,” he said. “Pretend,” he whispered.

Crowley had to pretend he wasn’t getting drunk off his scent—cinnamon and vanilla, as it always had been, with a touch of dust from his books. He smelled like home. Crowley wanted to bury his nose into his hair (was it soft? He actually didn’t know) and inhale, but that would have been too revealing. But he had to reciprocate somehow for the sake of the ruse. Cautiously, he leaned his cheek against the top of Aziraphale’s head, and his hair _was_ soft. To think that the last time they were here had gone so differently. If he knew back then that they would be like this now, he wouldn’t have gotten as upset. “I’d still take you to the stars,” he murmured, because it was true. Aziraphale rejected him then, but maybe they could go sometime. It would be nice. He sighed.

Aziraphale lifted his head, close enough so his lips brushed his ear. “May I kiss you, husband?” he asked, voice a little unsteady.

Crowley now knew what humans meant when they said their stomachs were full of butterflies. It felt like he was going to faint and run and yell all at the same time. He gulped audibly and nodded, because that was a request he was incapable of denying.

He followed him dumbly as Aziraphale took him by the hand so they stood under the bandstand. He squeezed his eyes shut, and then kissed him on the mouth. Crowley was expecting it, but he still let out an embarrassing, startled moan, and his grip on Aziraphale’s hand tightened. He hadn’t kissed anyone in a long time. He did it a couple times for a temptation, but that was about it. He didn’t like how dirty humans were, especially before the invention of indoor plumbing, but he also knew he wanted to kiss Aziraphale, and no one else. It was difficult now to hold himself back. If he kissed back, he might get carried away and go into a full-on snog, so he stayed still.

Aziraphale pulled away, his eyes downcast. He looked unhappy.

Was it really that bad?

He looked around. “Where are they?” he said under his breath.

Crowley pushed his sunglasses up to cover his eyes fully. He really couldn’t even stand one kiss? He was that eager for the archangels to be convinced and for this to be over? They were friends for 6,000 years; Crowley thought Aziraphale would at least tolerate this a bit better. He didn’t want to stick around and have how much he didn’t want to do this rubbed further in, like salt in the wound. “If they’re not here, I’m gonna go now,” he muttered.

“But—”

“If that didn’t get their attention, then they’re not here,” Crowley said sternly. He didn’t actually know if the archangels were lurking around or not, but he figured they would make some kind of scene if they witnessed an angel and a demon kiss. Besides, he wanted to go home.

“Okay,” he said simply, looking like he wanted to put up a fight, but declining. He was frowning.

Crowley turned on his heel and walked away, but his legs felt somewhat unsteady. Being kissed by the love of your life would do that, he thought. But it was so bitterly disappointing. Getting to live out his fantasy wasn’t much fun when Aziraphale acted like he had to kiss a...well, a beast from Hell, which he supposed was accurate. Crowley couldn’t exactly blame him for not wanting to kiss him, but it still wasn’t a good feeling. He couldn’t change what he was. He would never be forgiven. He knew Aziraphale accepted him as a friend, but being lovers was different, huh. Go figure. Crowley went home and went straight to bed. It was becoming his go-to coping mechanism for stress.

* * *

Crowley had to work up the mental energy to see Aziraphale again. He knew they had to keep going on dates until the pricks from Heaven thought they were a couple, but he needed time alone after their disaster of a kiss. When he wasn’t sleeping, he was drunk. But he couldn’t mope around nursing his broken heart like a human teenager forever, so he decided they would go on a picnic. Aziraphale was always up for a bite, and being outside would give Crowley something else to do other than stare at him.

Crowley pulled up to the bookshop in the afternoon. He made sure his glasses were covering his eyes completely, and he looked at himself in the rearview mirror. “You can do it,” he grumbled to himself. He went into the shop without knocking. “Come on,” he said gruffly.

Aziraphale jumped out of an armchair, and his book fell to the floor. “Goodness! You could try knocking,” he scolded.

Crowley shut the door behind him. “Whatever. Let’s get this over with.” Even he could admit that was a bit rude, but he was still on edge.

Aziraphale’s mouth twisted into an unhappy line and he picked up the book from the floor.

But then, a scent hit him. It wasn’t super strong, but it was definitely there. He sniffed loudly, scrunching up his nose. “Huh?”

“What?”

“I smell…” He sniffed again. Wait, what? “It’s _lust,”_ he said, utterly baffled. “Why’s your shop smell like lust?” He never smelled this in the shop, or even around Aziraphale more generally.

Aziraphale blinked. “Y-you can smell lust?” he stammered.

“Of course I can. I’m a demon.”

“Right. Well.” He paused and started twiddling his thumbs. “I had to reorganize the erotica earlier.”

Crowley didn’t know he had anything like that. Did he really sit and read _erotica_? “You have erotica?” he asked flatly.

“Erotic _literature_ ,” he said defensively. He stopped twiddling his thumbs and his hands fell to his sides. He cleared his throat. “They’re classics. I couldn’t simply pass up first editions because of their content. Perhaps rearranging them, ah, kicked up the scent? I’m not sure how these things work. As an angel.”

Crowley thought about it. He knew Aziraphale wouldn’t pass up a good book, but the whole thing was still weird, and it didn’t make sense why this never happened until now. But he couldn’t think of another explanation. Aziraphale didn’t ever feel lust...right? “Yeah. Maybe. Maybe. Um.” But the subject changed to the flowers that Aziraphale had kept, and then Crowley had to deny his own denial of growing them. He didn’t know if Aziraphale had any knowledge in the language of flowers, but he wanted to be on the safe side. It was better to drop it. 

But Aziraphale, clever bastard, saw his unease. “But are you all right?”

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know,” he said, and went to get his coat. “You seemed a little bother the other day.”

“I wasn’t bothered,” he denied immediately. “Don’t get bothered often, me. I’m calm. I’m cool.”

“If you’re certain,” he eyed him skeptically.

“Of course I’m certain,” Crowley asserted. There was a tremble in his voice. Fuck. He cleared his throat. “Anyway, let’s go.”

* * *

They were sitting on a bench in the park now, a basket between them. 

Aziraphale had laid his hand on top of Crowley’s, and he seemed to be in a nostalgic mood. “We’ve been together for a long time, if you think about it.”

“I guess so. But there were centuries when we didn’t see each other.” And what lonely centuries they were.

“No,” he said. “But.” He paused.

Crowley was glad they weren’t actually holding hands, because his palm was sweating.

“It was never as fun without you,” Aziraphale said softly.

Crowley’s hand twitched. “No,” he said roughly. “It wasn’t.” It was so lonely. He didn’t realize what that hollow feeling had been in his chest for a long time, but he knew it showed up whenever Aziraphale left. He didn’t want to admit he felt lonely for a long time, and he did enjoy life on earth on his own, but he couldn’t get away from the conclusion that he always felt better in his company. Years and years would go by and he would feel okay, but then he would bump into Aziraphale again, and be reminded of how much he missed him all the time.

Aziraphale squeezed his hand, and he was staring into space in thought. After a minute, he asked, “Crowley, what if another demon had been assigned to earth?”

“Huh...never thought about it, to be honest,” he said. 

“Neither have I, until now.”

“We can just as easily wonder what would’ve happened if another angel had guarded the Eastern Gate.” The more he thought about it, the worse the idea got, actually. 

“Well,” Aziraphale said, “they probably would have smitten you.”

 _Oh, angel, I’ve already been smitten._ He mentally gagged at his own thought. “Probably,” he agreed and sat up a little straighter. He didn’t know what got Aziraphale into this mood. They had been relaxing and drinking, but he felt the conversation gradually getting more serious. It was a good thing he was only hovering around the edge of tipsy.

“I almost never met you,” Aziraphale said, sounding troubled.

“I suppose not.” He tilted his head to the side, looking at the distressed expression on his face. He put his glass down on the bench. “You all right?” He wished he knew what was going on in his head.

Aziraphale blinked hard. He looked down at his hands. “Yes, fine. I’m only pondering how different it would have been, if…” He trailed off, and a shudder ran through him.

“Angel?” he asked in alarm.

He fiddled with the ring on his pinky. “If I had remained their loyal servant in Heaven,” he finished weakly.

Oh. Crowley felt sympathy run through him. He knew Aziraphale regretted having blind faith in Heaven. Sometimes he would get quiet, a perturbed furrow to his brow as he looked down at his cup of tea or into space, and Crowley knew he was thinking about Heaven. He knew what it was like, too, to ask a million questions, lying awake night after night, wondering how things might have turned out differently if he hadn’t Fallen, or if he had been more loyal to Hell and carried out the apocalypse. “You don’t have to think about that,” he told him in what he hoped was a reassuring voice. “Trust me, you’ll go mad asking yourself what-if questions. We’re here now. This is our reality.”

“And what a nice reality it is,” he said thickly.  
Crowley hated how unhappy he looked, and needed to make him feel better. He had permission to touch him, so he wrapped his arm around his shoulders.

“You don’t have to do that,” Aziraphale said, not looking at him.

Crowley hid his disappointment. “I know. But I’d be a shit husband if I didn’t.” At least he had the plan to fall back on, to deny that he was doing this because he wanted to.

“Yes,” he said quietly. “Quite right. Husband.” But then, after a moment of teasing each other about how illogical their fake marriage actually was, Aziraphale looked at him in alarm. “Crowley,” he whispered. “We don’t have rings! They might notice.”

“Shit,” he swore. He hadn’t even thought of that. “We can miracle a couple up?”

“No,” he shook his head, still whispering. “Above or Below would notice.”

“You’re right.”

Crowley could see the wheels turning in Aziraphale’s head. He looked down, and then quickly took off his golden ring. “Give me your hand.”

Crowley raised his eyebrows and his eyes widened. Oh, Satan, was he going to give him his ring? He unwound his arm from his shoulders and held out his left hand, heart beating. He felt warm, but it had nothing to do with the setting sunlight that was on his skin.

Aziraphale cupped his hand and slid the ring onto his long, slender finger. It fit. His hands were ridiculously soft. “There we are,” he murmured.

Crowley took back his hand and looked down, sunglasses sliding down his nose by a fraction. He spread his fingers. There was Aziraphale’s ring, right there on his finger. Something about the sight was making his brain short-circuit.

“Crowley?”

He lifted his chin and took a breath. “You’re really gonna make me wear something with angel wings?”

“Pretend they’re demon wings. It isn’t as if angel wings are gold, anyway.”

He looked down at the ring again, flexing his hand. This was the ring that snugly wrapped around his finger for ages, and now it was around his. Why was this making his heart beat so hard? 

“Erm, I know it’s not your taste.”

That wasn’t the issue at all. “Ah, wyh, gfhf, it’s fine,” he stammered. He hated when he did that, but he couldn’t help it. “How long have you had this, anyway?”

Aziraphale looked confused by his demeanour. “Oh, ages. Can’t recall the exact date.”

Crowley turned away, and slowly put his arm back around him so he didn’t spend the next ten minutes staring at the ring. “I’ll take care of it. I know you’d throw a fit if anything happened to it.”

He put his arm on the basket between them, and his gaze was averted once more. “You’re supposed to keep it, husband,” he said.

He exhaled slowly. “Right.” They sat together for a little while more, but Crowley only yearned for him more. The ring felt pleasantly heavy on his finger. He wanted to feel the touch of his lips again, but what if Aziraphale didn’t want to kiss? Rejection would be humiliating. But no, he had the plan to fall back on. Kissing would be good for the plan. Even though a part of his brain was reminding him of how much Aziraphale didn’t seem to enjoy the previous kiss, he decided that he really, really wanted to do it again.

He sighed, scratching the back of his neck after putting his jacket back on. It was getting late and they were about to leave, so why not try now? “Maybe...maybe we should kiss.”

Aziraphale’s expression was blank. “We should?”

Crowley felt himself flushing. “Yeah? For, the thing.”

Aziraphale straightened his bow tie and turned his torso towards him, his face still frustratingly devoid of emotion. “Yes, all right.”

Crowley didn’t need to be told twice. He quickly cupped his cheek and kissed him. He kept it closed-lipped, but he could still smell the champagne on his breath. He wanted to lick into his mouth, but didn’t dare deepen the kiss. Aziraphale’s lips were soft, deliciously so. He was melting into the kiss, face warming further. _You’re kissing him,_ his brain said. _You’re kissing your angel._ It was surreal. Aziraphale’s usual scent of cinnamon and vanilla filled his nostrils, and Crowley had to hold back a groan. He wanted to get lost in the touch of his lips and tangle his fingers into his white curls. He wanted to tell Aziraphale how much he meant to him, how much he absolutely adored the fussy, pissy bastard. He loved him so much it hurt. He had to pull back before getting carried away.

Aziraphale stared at him, wide-eyed.

The look on his face unnerved Crowley. He hoped he hadn’t revealed himself. He didn’t know if he would be able to kiss him again without losing it. He looked around. “Still no angels?” he asked, and this time, he really wished they would show up. He was so conflicted, because he wanted more time to touch Aziraphale, but the longer this went on, the harder it would be to hide how he really felt.

For some reason, Aziraphale’s expression hardened. He stood up and muttered, “Let’s go home.” He walked away.

Crowley was dumbfounded. What went wrong? He quickly gathered the things into the basket and grabbed it, catching up to him. “Hey,” he frowned. “You all right?”

Aziraphale folded his hands behind his back and strode ahead. “Well, it’s like you said the other day. They’re not here, so let’s go.”

No, Crowley didn’t want him to go. He had to think. How could he get him to stick around now that their date was over? It had to be in line with the plan, something that could plausibly catch the archangels’ attention. But they were about to go their separate ways--hang on! “I was thinking,” he said, walking faster to keep up with him. “Maybe they think it’s weird we don’t live together,” he blurted out.

Aziraphale stopped. “What?”

Oh, Hell, was he really doing this? Yep, apparently he was. He bit his lip, hip cocking to the side, trying and failing for nonchalance. He lowered his voice. “During the day, couples go about their business, but at night, they usually live together. Long-term ones do, at least.” He couldn’t believe his mouth was actually saying this. “L-look, it’s only until, you know. And you can go back to your shop during the day. We don’t even have to talk to each other at night. I usually sleep nowadays anyway.” He was seriously asking him to temporarily move in with him. He was going nuts. “I’m just saying. You said you don’t think they’ll look in the flat ‘cause they don’t want to, uh, catch anything, eh, they wouldn’t want to see, right? So you can just do whatever until the morning. Anything to make it look more real.” That sounded reasonable, at least.

After a long pause, Aziraphale stiffly said, “It seems like a reasonable course of action.”

At least it wasn’t a ‘no.’ Crowley nodded, biting his lip again. “Uh huh. Yeah. ‘S what I thought. Let’s go.” 

He couldn’t believe that actually worked, and now Aziraphale was going to spend the night at his flat. That hadn’t happened since the night of the apocalypse, and they did nothing but plan how to survive the next day. He realized he didn’t have anything for Aziraphale to do at his flat, so he fumbled and tossed him the remote to the television.

“I know you don’t watch much television, but it’ll keep you from being bored tonight. You can bring your books over tomorrow night. I know you don’t like miracling them from place to place because you don’t wanna damage them, or whatever.”

Aziraphale stared at the remote warily. “Isn’t television one of yours?”

“Game shows,” he smiled proudly.

“I’ll be sure to avoid those.”

“Hey!”

Aziraphale flashed him a faux innocent smile.

“Bastard. I’m going to bed.” He knew he wouldn’t actually sleep, but sitting on the sofa with Aziraphale and getting drunk after kissing him? Bad idea. He went to bed, but really just relaxed with his eyes closed, unable to sleep with Aziraphale’s presence in his flat. He felt weirdly nervous. Who was he kidding? He knew exactly why he was nervous. He was still reeling from the kiss. He looked at the ring on his hand. He was going to hate having to give it back in a day or so. He liked the idea of wearing something of Aziraphale’s. He swept his thumb over the ring. The past few days were absolutely fucking insane. Just when he thought Aziraphale was hating this, he would say something kind and his eyes would be tender. It was like he was giving mixed signals. Crowley told himself that a few soft glances and kind words didn’t outweigh thousands of years of evidence that his love was unrequited, but he was an optimist.

Besides, there were some moments from the past which gave him pause. Their conversation in the Bentley in 1967 stuck out in his mind. Maybe...maybe Aziraphale didn’t return his feelings, but he might be _able_ to. Maybe he needed to see that Crowley could be a good partner, perfectly capable and willing to love him. It would be a tough balancing act, convincing Aziraphale he had a heart while not showing it too much in case there truly was no way his feelings would be returned. But Crowley had a golden opportunity with their little ruse to make Aziraphale fall in love with him. Yeah, why not? He should at least _try._

“It’s worth a shot,” he said under his breath to the ceiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale in the main story at this point is like "oh why does Crowley have that statue from the church in 1941??? Such a mystery" and meanwhile Crowley is like "maybe.......I can get him to love me......"  
> We'll get some more Crowley-exclusive scenes as the story goes on :) I just needed to establish some stuff going on in his head in some of these crucial early scenes.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Covers chapter 4 of Pretend For Me

When the morning sun came through his black curtains, Crowley got up and stretched his arms over his head. He couldn’t sleep, but while his body had gotten used to it, he reminded himself it wasn’t actually necessary. He snapped his fingers and was back in his day clothes. He tried to think of a new plan for a date they could go on for today, but he couldn’t decide on any of his ideas, so he decided to go out and run some errands instead. They didn’t need to spend every second together for this plan to work, anyway, right? He put on a pair of sunglasses and left his bedroom. He was hit with a wave of joy from the plant room and scowled. Damn it! Aziraphale must have went in there and coddled them last night. Years of intimidation and pretending to destroy plants in the garbage disposal were for nothing.

He walked into his sitting room to find Aziraphale on the sofa, in the exact same spot from last night. It was weird just seeing him there in his flat, but in a good way.

“Good morning,” Aziraphale greeted him, looking tired.

Crowley grunted and walked in front of the television, which was playing the news. “Why’re the plants so happy?” he accused. “I can feel the joy from here.”

“I have them some encouraging words,” Aziraphale said.

Crowley groaned, thinking of all the work he would have to do to whip them back into shape. It wasn’t easy getting plants to tremble in fear at the slightest quirk of your eyebrow. “Noooo,” he whined. “You’re here one night and they’ve been spoilt.”

Aziraphale turned off the television, looking annoyed. “I got bored without my books and the rubbish on that thing,” he pointed at the screen.

Crowley smirked. “Did you finally catch up and see what people have been watching for the past several decades?” He now wished he hadn’t gone to bed and stayed up to see Aziraphale’s reaction to television instead. He must have had that cute, disturbed look on his face, and given his little huff of indignation and dissatisfaction.

“Are you sure you only had a hand in game shows?” Aziraphale asked as he stood up.

“Positive.”

Aziraphale took his coat from where he had laid it on the sofa and put it on. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to get back to my books after that awful night. I have no idea why humans would make exploitative programs about poor, frightened teenage mothers-to-be,” he said in disapproval.

 _16 and Pregnant,_ Crowley’s mind reminded him of the American reality show. They had been through hell (literally), but Aziraphale considered watching reality programs the making of an awful night. “Poor thing,” he teased because he couldn’t help it. “Go read something before you pout harder.”

Aziraphale glared at him, and yep, his lower lip stuck out in a pout. He straightened his bow tie and lifted his chin. “Yes, well, I’m off. Are you heading out?”

“Yeah, got some errands to run,” he said as he walked to the front door.

“Do I even want to know?”

“Probably not,” Crowley opened the door. The truth was that he wasn’t sure what he was going to do today.

Aziraphale rolled his eyes and stepped out of the flat. “Of course not.”

Crowley shut the door behind him. “I’ll see you tonight?”

“Yes.” He didn’t walk away. He stared at Crowley, the wheels visibly turning in his head.

Before Crowley could ask what he was thinking about, Aziraphale quickly hugged him, wrapping his arms around his shoulders. Crowley tensed immediately, not expecting this at all. This was their first time hugging and he could feel Aziraphale’s warmth seeping through his clothes and making his neck flush. Their chests were pressed together, and Crowley felt their hearts beating in sync. It felt really human, and really good. Damn, when was the last time anyone hugged Crowley? _Had_ anyone hugged him…?

He wanted to collapse into his arms and bury his nose into his neck, but Crowley kept still.

“Have a good day, dearest,” Aziraphale said, tone light and affectionate. He let go of him and stepped back.

But it wasn’t real, that was the thing. Crowley couldn’t truly enjoy this. He wanted Aziraphale to fall in love with him, but there was no way that could have happened overnight. He just did it because they were out of the flat and the archangels might be looking in. Crowley nodded silently. He watched Aziraphale leave. Once he was alone, he rubbed his eyes from under his glasses. Okay, then. That happened. Well. Time to go outside and act like that didn’t affect him at all. He ran his thumb over Aziraphale’s ring. He got an idea.

* * *

Crowley didn’t ever picture himself in a jewelry shop. He never wore fancy jewelry much, himself, and he miracled his clothes on more often than not. But he couldn’t miracle up a ring without Hell getting a memo, so he had to turn to humans for help. He was here because it would look more realistic if Aziraphale wore a ring, too, but also because Crowley wanted to give him one. He wanted to offer Aziraphale a little reminder of their relationship that he could take with him wherever he went, just as Crowley was gazing down at the golden angel wings wrapped around his finger now. It was perfect. He could give Aziraphale a ring to be romantic, but say it was only for the plan if he didn’t like it.

“Custom designs cost extra,” the jeweler said.

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Crowley dismissed. “Can you do it or not?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, “but I’ll admit, I’ve never made a wedding ring with snakes before. It’s a bit unorthodox.” 

“My partner loves snakes,” he said, leaning on the counter. “It’s eh, an inside joke between us.”

“I see. I can do it, but it’ll take time.”

Crowley reached inside the man’s mind to motivate him to have more of a pep in his step and to drop everything else to do this. Just a little push to get the ring sooner.

“But I’ll get to it right away,” the man said suddenly.

Crowley smirked. “That’s what I like to hear. I’ll be in touch.” 

The thing Crowley always sort of prided himself on was his creativity. He designed the M25, and he came up with the design for this ring in his head on his way here. He wanted it to represent the two of them, in union. He wanted a snake to be on it, because his serpentine form was heavily tied to his identity. He didn’t like how humans feared his eyes, but at the same time, he wouldn’t change his snakelike features. The ring would be white gold with a snake head on either side of white fire opal in the center to represent Aziraphale’s angelic nature. The opal would be framed by black opal to represent Crowley’s demonic form, and it would be trimmed on the very edge of the opal with gold, like Aziraphale’s halo. Crowley hadn’t seen his halo since Eden, before Adam and Eve ate the apple. He stood up on the wall, flaming sword in hand, white wings out, and halo glowing behind his head. Crowley felt drawn to him without knowing why, but he was the picture of divine power in that moment, so he stuck to his snake form and stayed away from him until after God punished the humans.

He felt the shop in a good mood. He rewarded himself for his genius ring plan by popping into the cinema to see a new action flick. He sat in the back, munched popcorn loudly, and mentally tempted a man to talk on the phone loudly in the theater, causing an argument with another moviegoer. It was fun. He had a good day.

Crowley returned to his flat to find it empty. He knew Aziraphale must have gotten caught up in a book, so he didn’t worry. He took the time to scream insults at his plants.

“Don’t you go soft on me!” he yelled at the trembling leaves. “You are _not_ allowed to do that! I forbid it. Being soft is weak, and you need to be strong and do what you’re told. If anyone catches you being soft, I’ll clip your leaves. Keep growing!” he bared his fangs as he misted the flowers. 

Afterwards, he waited around a little bit, but felt himself nodding off on the sofa and decided to go to bed. It was easier to fall asleep without Aziraphale’s presence nudging his awareness.

* * *

That changed a few hours later. Crowley sat up with a tired groan. It was still dark outside. He checked his phone and saw it was almost 2 in the morning. He could feel that Aziraphale was in the flat. He thought about going back to sleep, but wanted to see if he would watch television again, so he got up. He couldn’t hear anything as he approached the bedroom door, however. He furrowed his brow and listened closely. He couldn’t hear much of anything. Moving quietly, Crowley left his room and looked around. He spotted Aziraphale standing down the hall, his back facing him.

Crowley walked forward, but his heart jumped into his throat.

Aziraphale was staring at the statue.

 _The_ statue.

From 1941.

_Fuck._

If Crowley closed his eyes and inhaled, he could swear he was standing on the ruins of the church, the smoke filling his nostrils. He had been so afraid Aziraphale wasn’t going to take him back as a friend after that icy silence since 1862. Crowley sensed Aziraphale was in trouble, and he put his pride aside to save him from discorporation. Even if it didn’t kill their souls, getting shot would hurt his body terribly and Crowley couldn’t let that happen. He took a risk and went, and at first, Aziraphale was not pleased to see him at all, and even questioned his choice for a first name.

But after the church blew up, Aziraphale’s demeanour had changed. He told Crowley that was kind of him, and then looked at him like he’d hung the stars after he gave him the books. Well, Crowley did hang the stars, but he was pretty sure Aziraphale didn’t know that. He didn’t like talking about when he was an angel. Anyway, he saw Aziraphale’s face soften and fill with...something at least looking like fondness. Crowley couldn’t place it, and didn’t want to get his hopes up it was anything serious.

 _“Thank you for tonight,”_ Aziraphale murmured when they pulled up to the bookshop.

 _“Shut up,”_ Crowley muttered reflexively.

Aziraphale looked at him like he was seeing him for the first time. _“It was nice seeing you again. Do take care.”_

Crowley didn’t know why his mood had changed so much, but he didn’t complain. He got his best friend back that night, and the expression Aziraphale wore would not leave his mind. It made his heart beat hard and his mouth go dry. He couldn’t stop thinking about it, and how something in his gut told him something changed between them. He went back to the ruins a few days after and took the statue that was fortunately still there. He didn’t keep a lot of earthly things for very long, but when he looked at the statue, he remembered Aziraphale’s beautiful face shining at him brighter than an evening star. He kept it as a reminder of when they reconciled, and he got his angel back.

But Aziraphale couldn’t figure any of that out _now_.

“What’re you doing?” Crowley asked him.

Aziraphale gasped and spun around. “Don’t scare me like that,” he scolded.

“Why are you over here?” he went on. “I thought you’d be reading.”

“I was looking at the statue.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” he said impatiently. “Why?”

Aziraphale frowned a little. “Well, I recognize it.”

 _Fuckfuckfuck._ His mouth was pulled into a taut line. “You do?” he asked quietly.

“Of course I do. London, 1941. The Nazis.” Aziraphale had a great memory. Obviously he remembered. 

Crowley hoped he wasn’t putting the pieces together and realizing how important that night was to him. “Yeah.”

“It was from a church. Why do you have it?”

Crowley shrugged. “Dunno. Just liked it,” he lied weakly.

Aziraphale was not convinced at all. “You, a demon, ‘just liked’ something from a church?” he asked with complete skepticism.

Crowley swallowed. Oh no. He was cornered. But Aziraphale wasn’t in love with him yet! This was bad. 

“Why did you take it?”

“Just liked it,” he repeated. “No other reason.”

Aziraphale was unimpressed. “Forgive me for finding that hard to believe,” he said, clever blue eyes staring intently at his face.

“It’s art. I like art.”

“Religious art?”

Crowley knew how ridiculous this sounded. “It’s nothing,” he hissed nervously. “I dunno what you’re implying, but it’s nothing,” he denied.

“I’m not implying anything,” Aziraphale said. “I’m only asking. I wouldn’t be curious if I didn’t know it’s from a church.”

Crowley’s nerves were making his stomach feel queasy. He needed to end this conversation. “Drop it,” he said sternly. “You’re being ridiculous. It’s just a bloody statue.”

Aziraphale went from curious to annoyed. “You don’t have to be rude about it.”

“I’m a demon, I’m—”

Aziraphale had the gall to roll his eyes hard. “Yes, yes, you’re not nice and evil and all that,” he said boredly. “I’m aware. You’re also acting like a human child instead of a demon older than time all because I asked about the decor.”

Crowley glared at him with all his might, trying to intimidate him. “You’re being nosy.”

Of course, the glare didn’t work. If anything, Aziraphale met it with an equally intense glower of his own. “For goodness’ sake, Crowley, you’re overreacting. You have so few mementos in this flat that the statue stands out. I recognized it and asked you a question. That’s all.”

Crowley decided that Aziraphale really didn’t know why he had it, and relaxed a little. His defensiveness was probably more likely to give him away more than anything else. He looked at the statue. “That’s really the only reason why you asked?” he fished for confirmation.  
“Yes!” Aziraphale said in exasperation. “Why else would I?”

Okay, so he was safe after all. Good. That was close. Time to drop it before Aziraphale started to think too hard about his panic. Crowley blinked, and was painfully aware of his bare eyes. “Erm, no reason.” He rubbed them. “Yeah, I guess I’m just on edge because I’m tired. Didn’t sleep well last night.” For supernatural entities, it was a poor excuse.

Of course, Aziraphale countered with, “You know you can actually go without sleeping for eternity, yes?”

“I got in the habit,” he groaned out of frustration. “Trust me, if you get these bodies in the habit of sleep, they’ll crave it.”

“That’s part of why I abstain from it.”

Crowley was glad the topic changed. Maybe the statue thing was harder to figure out than he thought.

Aziraphale was looking him in the eye. “Didn’t your feet burn?”

Shit. “This again?”

“It’s not about the statue,” Aziraphale dismissed. “You were hopping around that night.”

“Of course they were burning,” he muttered. “Consecrated ground. Even through the shoes, the floor burned.” And burned like a bloody bastard, too. He had to ice his feet for weeks after because he couldn’t miracle away holy power. It sucked, but once he miracled the statue into his flat, he felt like it was worth it.

Aziraphale’s eyes were downcast. “But you came in anyway,” he said, sounding grateful and a little bit sad.

Oh no. Was he actually piecing things together now? He had to get out of this, change the tone. “Yeah. It was 80 years ago. If you try to thank me for something from that long ago, I’ll kick you out.”

“80 years isn’t long to us,” he said, still looking down.

“I guess not.” He wasn’t having this conversation. He needed to leave the room. Um...bed! Bed. “Look, I think I’m tired now so I’m going to go back to bed. I thought you’d come earlier than 2 in the morning, by the way.”

Aziraphale was sheepish. “I got lost in a book.”

He knew it. He held back a smile. “Of course you did.” He must have spent all day reading, creature of habit that he was. Wait, a whole day went by without them doing something for the plan. They should probably do something tomorrow, but Crowley didn’t know what. “Before I hit the hay, what do you want to do tomorrow? I mean, another day went by and you’ve still heard nothing, right?”

“Right. I’ll try to think of something tonight, and if I don’t come up with something, we can think about it tomorrow morning. I’m assuming you have no plans tomorrow?”

“Nope.” He’d have to think of something all night, then. “All right, well, I’ll see you in the morning. Or, well, a few hours from now.”

“Okay. Goodnight.”

Crowley went back to his room, and miracled the walls to be soundproof so he could yell into his pillow. Fuuuuck, that was close. Too close too soon. Okay. Okay, okay. So. He needed to think of something they could do tomorrow. Something that could maybe get Aziraphale thinking that being with him wouldn’t be too bad after all. But it couldn’t be too much. It had to be public, but Crowley was tired of human eyes on them, so maybe they could go somewhere relatively out of sight. Somewhere not too busy. That would be better for showing physical affection, anyway.

So what was Aziraphale okay with doing? Kissing was awkward as hell so far, but just this morning, Aziraphale hugged him. Crowley lifted his head from his pillow. Yeah, hugging was good. It was really warm, and Aziraphale was the one who had taken the initiative, so he would probably be okay with it again. But they couldn’t just stand there and hug for awhile, it’d be weird. Oh, wait a sec, didn’t humans do that? Extended hugging? What did they call it? Whatever. The point was that Crowley saw humans lie down together and hug plenty of times throughout the past six thousand years, both in real life and in movies. It was romantic, but it’d be safe. Now, where could they do that outside of this flat with it being socially acceptable? Stores were out, obviously. It would have to be outside somewhere in nature. Maybe at a park, but he was kind of tired of going there. Besides, it’d be crowded and he wasn’t keen on strangers walking by and seeing him hugging Aziraphale. No park, then. Mountains? No...people didn’t hug on mountains, he didn’t think.

Crowley smacked his forehead.

A beach. Duh.

It was the off-season, meaning they could probably find a place away from most people. Yeah, that sounded good. They’d put a towel down on the sand and lie together. That was perfectly normal and would make them look like a proper couple while giving the archangels a chance to see them, although he could privately admit he didn’t want that to happen, at least not yet. He still had a ring to give Aziraphale, and even after that, he needed to fall in love with him. That would take more time than the next day or two. He knew the clock was ticking, however. It sucked, having to perform this balancing act of trying not to be too obvious while hinting to Aziraphale _yes, I love you, I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone or anything in the universe._ His heart skipped a beat when he thought of hugging Aziraphale tomorrow. That would really be testing his self-control, but he was a cool demon. He could do it.

Before he knew it morning had come already, and he hadn’t slept yet again. No matter. Today was going to be interesting, to say the least. It was early still, the sun only peeking over the horizon, but he got up anyway, knowing he wouldn’t sleep now. He might wind up interrupting Aziraphale’s reading, but he had a plan, so maybe he wouldn’t mind.

Crowley snapped his fingers and changed his clothes. He strolled into the sitting room. “Morning, an—” his voice died in his throat.

Aziraphale was sitting on the sofa, but his head was slightly tipped back at what looked like an uncomfortable angle. He was sunken into the cushions, his pink lips were parted, and his eyes were closed. Did he faint? Did something happen? Crowley was in front of him in an instant, and he took off his glasses to get a better look at him. Aziraphale’s face was smooth and the frown lines were nowhere to be seen. His book was in his hands but slumped forward on his stomach. His eyes moved beneath the lids, his light lashes fluttering for a moment before settling. His white curls were in messy tufts around his head, like a halo. His chest rose slowly, and then a deep sigh left his lips. His chest went back to a steady, gentle rhythm of rising and falling.

Oh, Aziraphale was _sleeping._

Hot, thick toffee oozed into Crowley’s chest. A big, doofy smile plastered itself on his face. This word had never been uttered by him before, but he whispered, “You adorable thing.”

Aziraphale kept sleeping, his breathing light and peaceful.

Crowley tried to tell himself to scowl and scold himself for using that word, but he couldn’t get the bloody smile off his face. It was unfair how positively, well, angelic he looked when he slept. _Why didn’t you make them all like him?_ he mentally asked God. _You would’ve really had Heaven full of goodness, then. But maybe you never wanted that at all. I don’t know. You’ve never answered me._

A little part of Crowley felt smug because he was telling Aziraphale to try sleep for years. He knew he’d do it eventually. He briefly wondered what finally made Aziraphale succumb to his body’s exhaustion.

The greater part of him took notice of the book on his belly, the shoes on his feet, and the uncomfortable position he was in. He probably hadn’t meant to fall asleep. Crowley figured his first sleep should be a proper one. He knelt down and carefully unlaced his shoes, picking up each foot and removing them slowly. He didn’t use his powers because...he didn’t have an answer. He wanted to do this manually for some reason. His eyes were on Aziraphale’s face the whole time, looking for signs he was waking up. Once the shoes were off, he placed them next to the sofa. He stood up and even more carefully took the book from his hands.

Crowley let himself think that if they were in a real relationship, and if Aziraphale got in the habit of sleeping, Aziraphale would nod off with a book in his hands often, and he’d have to do this frequently. It sounded great, actually, having to look after Aziraphale like this. He’d be happy to do it until the end of time. Now the shoes were off and the book was on the sofa. Raising his hand, he snapped his fingers as quietly as one possibly could. A plush pillow appeared behind Aziraphale’s head, putting his neck in a straighter, more comfortable position. Crowley wasn’t satisfied. He snapped his fingers again and miracled up the softest fleece blanket he could. He made it a cream color, because he knew Aziraphale would like that. He held the blanket in his hands and leaned over.

Maybe Aziraphale sensed someone standing over him, because the corner of his mouth twitched, his eyes moving under the lids again.

Crowley didn’t want him to awaken yet, and not simply to save himself from embarrassment. He had never seen Aziraphale so at ease before, and he fucking deserved it, if you asked him. Maybe he could prevent him from waking up fully. “Just getting you comfortable, angel,” he murmured as gently as he could. “’S all right.” He placed the blanket on him, up to his chin, and tucked it around his body.

Aziraphale turned his head towards him with a small whine from his throat.

His whine shot straight to Crowley’s heart. Bloody hell, he loved him so much. He sighed. “It’s never easy with you, is it?” He finished tucking him in.

Aziraphale’s parted lips turned down into a frown. He whined softly again.

Crowley wanted him to keep experiencing the blissful relaxation of sleep after worrying and being stressed since forever, probably. And he looked fucking cute all curled up in the blanket, Crowley couldn’t lie. “Shhh,” he breathed. He hesitantly stroked the back of two of his fingers over a round, sleep-flushed cheek. He gulped. “You’ll sleep peacefully and soundly.”

Aziraphale’s eyebrows furrowed.

Crowley snapped his fingers.

All of the tension left Aziraphale’s face in an instant, his lips parting again, and the blanket moved up and down against his chest gently as he sighed.

Crowley sighed in relief. _That’s it._ He had no idea how long Aziraphale would sleep, considering he went thousands of years without it, but then again, it was his first time, so his body might not have been used to it yet. Crowley kept looking at him, because he couldn’t bring himself to leave Aziraphale lying here, vulnerable and unconscious. Despite being unemployed, sometimes, Crowley still got afraid. A lifetime of Hell drilling fear into your skull didn’t go away in two years, he guessed. He was afraid for his own safety from time to time, but after thinking Aziraphale was burnt to a crisp in the bookshop, any nightmares he had after the apocalypse involved his death, not Crowley’s. 

Crowley shook his head. He didn’t want to get all worked up now. Aziraphale was here, sleeping like a baby right in front of him, and Crowley was watching. He would be safe. Crowley would always make sure of it. He gazed down at him, his better half. His fingers curled into a fist. He really wanted to kiss his cheek. But that wouldn’t be proper. Aziraphale was sleeping and had no say. But Crowley really wanted to do it. He hesitated, but ultimately leaned down and placed his lips softly to his warm cheek. The hot toffee poured into his veins now, and Crowley pulled back. Ok, he did it. At least kissing him without his knowledge could be chalked up as demonic activity.

He sat down on the coffee table in front of the sofa. He sat there with one leg up on the table, knee bent, and elbow atop his knee so he could lean his cheek into the palm of his hand. He might have looked like a cartoon character with hearts for eyes, but that was nobody’s business.

A solid six hours later, the round tip of Aziraphale’s nose twitched and he started frowning again. He was waking up.

Crowley had to move. There was no way Aziraphale would be happy to know he watched him sleep. He quickly transformed into a snake so he could slither out of the room as fast and quietly as possible, hiding in the plant room. He transformed back into a human when he was safe inside. Okay, he got away with it. Good. He put on an air of nonchalance and went back in the room.

Aziraphale looked like a very confused baby duck, his hair sticking up like feathers. He was looking around in distress.

“Oh, Satan, Aziraphale, calm down,” Crowley drawled.

Aziraphale looked up, self-conscious and flushing slightly. “What happened?”

Crowley rolled his eyes and fought a grin. To be fair, waking up for the first time in 6,000 years was probably disconcerting. “You fell asleep, angel. That’s all. You’re fine. It’s eleven in the morning.”

“Eleven?” he asked in alarm. “The morning is nearly over! Oh, I don’t know how—this never happened to me before. I never intended to—”

 _Such a fussy thing._ “Shush, will ya?” Crowley walked over to the sofa with his hands in his pockets. “You’re acting like someone smacked you in the head and knocked you unconscious. Your body was probably tired after, hmmm, what was it again, 6,000 years?”

“Technically two years since i was discorporated,” he muttered.

“Whatever. You slept and the world didn’t end. Stop fussing.”

Aziraphale looked down and flexed his toes. “You took off my shoes,” he observed.

Crowley’s lazy smirk fell. “Well, yeah.”

“And put my book down.”

“Yeah?” Was Aziraphale realizing he did it because he cared about him? Crowley didn’t know if that was good or bad.

“And gave me a pillow.”

Crowley felt a little exposed, so he reached into his pocket and put sunglasses on.

“And this blanket,” Aziraphale went on. “It’s isn’t your color. Did you miracle it up?”

Curse him for being a clever bastard. Crowley sniffed and looked away. “The only other blankets I have are on my bed, what was I supposed to do?”

Aziraphale folded the blanket and placed it on the sofa next to his book. “Thank you.”

Noooo. “Shut up.”

Aziraphale glanced down at himself and frowned. “Look how wrinkled my clothes are now.”

“Most people don’t sleep in trousers and a waistcoat. Or a bow tie.”

He miralced the wrinkles out of his clothes and stood up. “I’m afraid I didn’t think of anything last night,” he changed the subject. “For us to do today, I mean.”

Crowley looked past him and stared at the wall. “I did. Something kinda like the picnic we had, but different.” He didn’t think Aziraphale would reject this plan, but he wasn’t certain.

“Different how?”

“Maybe just sitting together on a bench wasn’t enough,” he started apprehensively.

“We did share a kiss,” he pointed out.

Of bloody course he’d bring that up. “Yeah, but only for a sec,” he said to the wall. “Maybe we gotta do something for a longer period of time.”

“Such as?”

 _Here goes._ How could he describe this? “Maybe, uh, you know how humans lay together sometimes? Like a, like a kind of embrace but they keep doing it and just. Sit?”

Understanding entered his eyes. “You mean we should have a cuddle?”

Crowley’s heart skipped a beat. “Don’t call it that!” he snapped, teeth bared. “That’s insulting.” Demons didn’t cuddle!

“Well,” he huffed, “what else should I call it?”

He grunted. “Anyway, instead of just sitting, we can do that ‘cause that can’t be interpreted as friendly.”

“Do it outside, you mean? At the park again?”

“Nah, sick of the park. Beach?”

“The beach?” his eyes widened. “Why, I haven’t been by the sea in ages.”

“Neither have I. It’s not hot out, but I don’t think you’d want to strip down to a swimsuit anyway, eh?” He actually would like to see that at some point, but now wasn’t the time.

“Oh, no. I don’t think I’ve ever owned one.”

“Didn’t think so. We can pick a spot away from people and lie on a towel together.” _Fuck._ “It won’t be that awful, right? And we can hope they see us.” He paused. “You sure they haven’t already?” he asked for confirmation. He didn’t think Aziraphale would hide it from him, but it didn’t hurt asking. He didn’t want this to end yet, though.

“Do you honestly believe Gabriel would see me kiss a demon, shrug, and go on his merry way?” Aziraphale asked dryly.

Right. Because he was disgusting to most angels. “Point taken,” he said with a grimace.

* * *

They drove to the beach silently. He didn’t know what was going on in Aziraphale’s mind, but he was silently freaking out maybe a little as they got closer and closer to hugging on a towel (he wouldn’t call it “cuddling”). And then the towel was spread out and it was time to do it. Crowley saw Aziraphale remove his shoes and followed suit. His feet had scales on them, and he didn’t think Aziraphale ever saw them until now. He felt a little embarrassed about it. Sometimes he thought his serpentine features were cool, and others, they were nothing but a reminder of how different he was from Aziraphale.

Crowley cleared his throat. “Sorry. I know they’re not human,” he referred to his feet as he sat down. “It’s another thing I can’t control.”

“No need to apologize,” Aziraphale said, and seemed to mean it. He was already lying down on his back on the towel, his coat neatly folded by his shoes. His blond hair was highlighted by the sunlight, turning a complete snowy white. If they were human, Crowley thought, his skin would be sunburnt in under an hour outside like this during the summer. Aziraphale inhaled and exhaled slowly, wiggling a little against the towel.

Crowley liked his happy little wiggles.

“You picked a wonderful day, dear.”

“Mm.” He swallowed audibly. Time for business. “Yeah. So. I’m just gonna. Do it. It’ll be weird, but.” Oh yeah, real fucking smooth, serpent.

“Do what you must,” he said, expression inscrutable.

Crowley nodded curtly. Here he was, about to hug up against the love of his life. _Keep calm. Keep cool. Don’t ruin this._ He braced one hand on the towel and lowered himself down next to Aziraphale on his side. He pressed his body against Aziraphale’s right side and laid a hand over his chest, trying to get comfortable. He put his head down on his shoulder to hide his face, even though he still had his sunglasses on. He was glad there were no people around. Instantly, Crowley felt the frantic beats of Aziraphale’s heart beneath his palm. He wasn’t certain, but pretty sure it didn’t usually beat that fast. Crowley’s heart was in no better shape. Was Aziraphale nervous because he was uncomfortable, or because he was maybe enjoying this a little bit?

Aziraphale slowly moved his arm and wrapped it around him, his hand coming to rest at his hip.

Crowley had to stop breathing for a few seconds to stop a strangled noise from leaving his throat. “This is weird,” he said, voice strained. Wait, maybe the archangels were listening. “Eurgh, I mean, we do this all the time. But. It’s weird today.”

Aziraphale was eerily silent.

Crowley stopped his muscles from tensing. He wished he could see Aziraphale’s face, but was afraid to find utter discomfort there. Well, whatever. At least Aziraphale was warm, especially his chest. The fabric of his clothing was soft against Crowley’s cheek. It was like lying on top of a solid, heated blanket. The snake in him wanted to let out a contented hiss. The quick beats kept pulsing against his palm. He huffed in irritation. For someone’s sake, it was just a hug. “Your heart’s going fast. Calm down.”

“Sorry, it’s only... before you, I never did this,” he admitted.

That didn’t surprise him. “Really? Me neither.”

“I didn’t think so.”

“Why not?” What did Aziraphale think about his sex life, anyway? _Did_ he think about it?

“Demons don’t cuddle often,” he answered.

“This isn’t cuddling!” he insisted, the word causing a knee jerk reaction deep in his gut.

“Snuggling?” he suggested.

That was worse. “I’ll drown you in the sea,” he mumbled into his soft shoulder. Aziraphale was ridiculously soft, but it was so comfortable. He was a gently breathing pillow.

“Do you like this?” Aziraphale asked suddenly.

 _Arrghhhh_! “It’s all right. You’re warm, and...soft.”

“Oh. Thank you,” he sounded pleased. “Gabriel thinks I’m too soft. He told me, on the day of Armageddon, to lose the gut.” He used his free hand to poke his stomach.

Absolutely fuck Gabriel. The rude fucking judgmental prick. Who the hell asked his opinion, anyway? He didn’t have the right to say something like that. If Aziraphale brought this up, it must have bothered him somewhat. Crowley shifted, lips now close to his neck, feeling protective. “Well it’s a bloody good thing you’re married to _me_ and I’ve always like you as you are.” His brain screeched to a halt. Why the Heaven did he say that?! That was so obvious! He fell silent, and Aziraphale did, too. 

Crowley decided to keep his mouth shut for a little while and let the moment pass. The sound of the waves crashing was nice white noise, and the sun against his black clothes relaxed him. He felt Aziraphale’s heartbeat gradually slow down, which was a good sign. He was at least getting used to this. His breathing was a steady rhythm against his cheek, calming Crowley’s nerves. He never used someone as a pillow before, but he knew he wanted to do it again sometime. Just having Aziraphale so close after thousands of years apart dimmed the ache that was ever-present in his chest. He dreamed of laying his head on Aziraphale so many times over the past few thousand years, and now he was finally doing it. But it was fake. On Aziraphale’s part. Probably. After several minutes, Aziraphale began to slowly run his hand up Crowley’s side and down to his hip. Crowley’s heart started beating hard again and his eyes fluttered shut because this was bloody good. His fingers curled into a loose fist. He was outright being caressed now. It zapped the tightness out of his muscles. It’d be so easy to fall asleep like this, with the white noise of waves and the light breeze and the solid yet soft warmth beneath his face, and his side being stroked slowly. He could easily sleep for a century like this, with his mind going fuzzy and his eyes turning heavy.

But the caresses abruptly stopped.

Crowley felt the absence of his hand immediately. Opening his eyes, he lifted his head. “Ngh,” he protested. “Why did you stop?” he asked tiredly.

Aziraphale was pink, but that could have been from the sun. His eyes held caution and interest, the slightest uplift to his eyebrow, and he put his hand back where it was.

Crowley put his head back down with a small sigh. This felt like his Kryptonite, this caressing.

“What would Hell think if they saw us now?” Aziraphale asked softly. “We know what Heaven would think.”

That sucked him out of his happy mood. He didn’t need to wonder; he knew Hell would never stop laughing for the rest of eternity. He wasn’t allowed to love or enjoy hugs and kisses. None of them were. He never fit in with Heaven or Hell. When he fell head-over-heels for Aziraphale, he felt more like an outcast than ever. He snorted and tucked his head down, hiding his face more. “If the other creatures of Hell knew I was in love with an angel?” he spat.

Aziraphale’s heart kicked against his chest. “Y-you mean if they _thought_ you were, you felt that way?” he asked nervously.

That was the second time he put his foot in his mouth today, except this time it was much worse because he actually said the L-word. It was hard not to slip up when his brain was fuzzy from the hugging. “Yeah?” he tried to play it off. If he reacted to it, then that would give him away. “That’s what I said. Anyway. They don’t think—” he remembered they could be overheard. “They _can’t_ kill me, so that’s out. But they’d laugh their arses off.” He’d forever be known as the demon who fell in love with one of God’s holy servants, a complete traitor, but a complete tosser, too. He tried so hard not to love Aziraphale in the beginning, because life as a demon was hard enough. His efforts failed spectacularly. He sat up, pulling his knees up and fixing his glasses. Loving an angel was another thing that made him feel alone in the universe.

Aziraphale sat up behind him.

Crowley knew he was never going back to Hell, but having all of your ex-colleagues know you were desperately in love with an angel wasn’t ideal. “I told you before. Demons aren’t supposed to love,” he said, looking out at the sea. He knew there was no way he could stop loving Aziraphale, and most of the time he didn’t want to, but sometimes he wished they were human, without Heaven and Hell refusing to leave them the fuck alone. “I’d never be able to show my face in Hell again, not that I really want to, but.” His jaw clenched. “If anyone knew how much I…” _How much I love you with my entire being._ “That we’re doing this...it’s humiliating. But they’ll find out soon, I guess, and it’s for our safety, so. Whatever. It is what it is.” He knew saving their lives would be worth it, but he didn’t look forward to the demons finding out about their fake relationship.

After a long pause, Aziraphale placed his hand on his shoulder. “Well, what if you told them you were seducing me?”

If Crowley had been drinking something, he would have spit it out. He whipped his head around. “If I _what?”_ he gaped.

“Let me explain!” he blushed to his ears. Embarrassed as he was, he was genuinely sympathetic to his troubles. “Wouldn’t that be admirable, if you were to seduce an angel and make one sully themselves with the Damned? That’s how it would be seen, at least.” Aziraphale really went and gave him permission to go and say he seduced him, just so Crowley could feel better.

Crowley smirked slowly, because the image of him swooping in and being all dark and seductive with Aziraphale was ludicrous. It wasn’t a bad idea, though. “Huh. Yeah, hah. I guess I could play it off like that.” He put his hand on top of Aziraphale’s, feeling a little better already. No matter what, they were friends and Aziraphale wanted to help him. It meant a lot. “What matters is that they know we’re part of each other, and we’ve done all that good mixing essences stuff.”

“Yes,” he smiled nicely. “Crowley, would you lie back down? We haven’t been here very long, and it’s such a nice day…”

He wanted to do it again?

He raised his eyebrows. “For the thing, you know.”

“Yeah. For the thing.”

They shuffled back down into their previous position, and Crowley’s hand was over his heart again, protective. The beating was normal and regular, indicating he was much calmer this time around. This was definitely for the thing, but Crowley didn’t think he was crazy by suspecting Aziraphale actually liked this. The minutes passed by quickly. There was some banter between them, but it was all casual. It would be amazing if they could do this all the time. They fit together like puzzle pieces. Didn’t Aziraphale see that? It was clear as day to Crowley. Being this close was thrilling and relaxing at the same time, somehow. He wanted to wrap his arms around Aziraphale’s middle and bury his face into his neck. Would that be too much? He’d probably scare him away. If he was going to touch him more, he should test the waters. He moved his hand and carefully slid into Aziraphale silky soft palm.

Aziraphale held his hand.

Crowley pressed his lips together. He stole a glance at Aziraphale.

His eyes were closed, completely at ease as he sunned himself. 

Crowley thought he was beautiful, and again wished he let himself relax like this more often. He wore a troubled face ever since Eden. The fact that he was this peaceful in the presence of a demon was not lost on Crowley. _I promise you can trust me. Sleep in my arms, I’d protect you. Agh. Urgh. Satan. I’m losing it._ All the same, the love inside of Crowley was swishing around in his stomach like hot tea, and he needed to act upon it. He was allowed to kiss him for the thing. He should do it. He didn’t know how he’d get Aziraphale to fall for him without kissing him, either, so. Better get a move on. Carefully, he brushed his lips against his jaw.

Aziraphale startled, eyes flying open. Crowley recoiled, but Aziraphale grasped his hand again. “Sorry, you just startled me,” he explained.

Well, he had reached for his hand again, so he couldn’t have disliked the little kiss, right? Crowley was unsure, though, since dealing with Aziraphale often mimicked dealing with a skittish deer.

Aziraphale looked up at him. “Do it again, please,” he breathed.

Crowley’s hand twitched in his. Without needing more encouragement, he leaned over and placed a small kiss on his jaw. He kept it short, barely more than a peck, giving Aziraphale a chance to move away. When he didn’t, Crowley brought their mouths together hesitantly. His lips were as soft as last time. Crowley’s toes curled on the towel and his pulse beat in his throat. He soaked in the sensation of their lips pressed together. Aziraphale was motionless beneath him for a few long seconds, but then he came to life. He kissed back, parting his lips. Their lips glided together, sending shivers down Crowley’s spine. It was their first proper kiss, with both parties kissing back. It was much better this way. It was halting and chaste, but made his heart twist all the same. Aziraphale gently closed his mouth over Crowley’s bottom lip.

A trail of heat trickled down Crowley’s abdomen, and he had to pull away, because becoming aroused right now was out of the question for so many reasons. But Aziraphale really _kissed him back_ this time. It was completely mutual. It...Crowley’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline.

Aziraphale’s eyes were half-lidded, unfocused, and the pupils were wider than usual. The big thing was the ball of golden light glowing from his chest.

That was new. “Uh. Why are you glowing?”

Aziraphale looked down and was just as shocked as he was. He sat up abruptly, sending Crowley on his back in the sand.

“Ouch,” he said, although it didn’t hurt.

“Sorry!” Aziraphale cried and stood up, his hands fluttering around his chest. “I don’t know what this could be.”

Neither did he. Crowley rose to his feet, brushing sand from his trousers. He never saw anything like this before, but he never shared a proper, mutual kiss with Aziraphale before, either. Was it related? He didn’t know how, but that would be why this was the first time in 6,000 years that either of them saw this happen. “Never saw an angel glow before,” he commented.

“Neither have I, unless we’re in our true forms.” He got a look of concentration on his face, and then the light was gone. “Let’s return home, shall we?” he asked suddenly.

What, after all that? After one kiss? Why? Was glowing maybe a nervous reaction, and that was why Aziraphale wanted their date to end? If so, was he nervous because he _liked_ or _disliked_ the kissing? Crowley put his hands on his hips. “Already?”

“Yes,” he said firmly, tone leaving no room for protest.

Crowley was disappointed, but he wouldn’t force Aziraphale to do anything. He nodded silently, his lips tingling from their kiss. That wasn’t exactly a failure of a date, but it wasn’t really a smashing success, either. It might have been, if not for the weird ending. 

Aziraphale didn’t seem keen on conversation in the car ride home.

Crowley tried talking to him anyway, because he couldn’t shake the inclination to believe the glowing had something to do with kissing. They did it a couple times before, but one of them had been unresponsive, so he guessed that was why it didn’t happen before today. He really was just guessing, though. Demons certainly didn’t glow. “We can’t get kissing right,” he muttered.

“Apparently not,” he said, looking out the window, hands folded atop his lap.

 _Lighten the conversation_. “It’s hard to fake, yeah? Don’t know how incubi do it.”

“Neither do I,” he said, monotone.

All right, then. No talking. It gave Crowley more time for thinking. The kiss affected Aziraphale somehow, that much was clear. How so was inconclusive. They’d have to try it again and see if he glowed. Not today, though. Crowley didn’t want to push his luck.

When they returned to Mayfair, they spent the rest of the evening apart in the flat. Aziraphale was in a sour mood, and Crowley didn’t have the mental energy to try to pull him out of it. He was never great at comforting others, especially if the issue had to do with him. Crowley left him alone and spent a few hours on his laptop in his room. When it was dark out and the blue light from the screen was hurting his eyes, he closed the lid and yawned. The fatigue in his bones told him he could sleep like the dead tonight, regardless of Aziraphale’s presence in the flat. He hadn’t been sleeping well over the past few days in general, and today gave him an annoying headache. He put his laptop away and snapped his fingers, changing into his silky black pajama set. He got into bed with a sigh, settling into the blankets. He shut off the lights with a thought.

Not five minutes later, the bedroom door creaked open.

Crowley opened his eyes, and his night vision revealed Aziraphale in the doorway, who was standing there watching him.

Realizing he was seen, Aziraphale said, “Sorry. I don’t know why I’m here, really.”

If he was seeking Crowley out, then that was all right. He snapped his fingers and the lamp came on. 

Aziraphale kept standing there.

Crowley sighed heavily. He was tired. He wanted to sleep through the night instead of engaging in a staring competition. He remembered finding Aziraphale asleep this morning, and thought maybe he was tired, too. If he were more alert, he would have freaked out more, but Crowley pulled down his maroon duvet and black sheet. “Come on, then.” He couldn’t be nervous about this, since he was pretty sure he was going to pass out in a few minutes.

Aziraphale laughed nervously. “Oh, no, I have no intention of sleeping again—”

“So? You can sit. Bring a book. Just stop standing there like a weirdo.”

Aziraphale dithered by the door, hand tightening on the doorknob, conflicted. That he was even considering sharing a bed with a demon was a big step, if you asked Crowley.

He tried to get him to stay. “It’s either you sit out there alone and read, you sit out there and try television again, or you come here and read. There are your choices.”

He bit his lip, eyeing the bed. “Are you tempting me, serpent?”

He liked when he was called that. “Your choice.”

“All right,” he said, and left the room to get a book.

Crowley mentally said _Yes_! They recovered from their awkward afternoon. He knew that only a week ago, Aziraphale probably would have never agreed to this. Progress. Or he just liked the look of the bed. 

Aziraphale returned, but Crowley wasn’t going to let him come to bed in those clothes. He snapped his fingers and dressed him in a matching pair of blue plaid pajamas.

“Crowley!” he gasped indignantly.

“You’re not getting into my bed in a bloody waistcoat,” he said. “Your clothes are out on the sofa, don’t worry.”

Aziraphale observed his new outfit. “Well, it’s not terrible,” he said seriously.

“Oh, _thank_ you,” Crowley rolled his eyes. “Now shut up and read your book,” he grumbled sleepily. He burrowed down into the blankets and hoped he would go to sleep before his brain could catch up with how insane this kind of was. He could have a meltdown later once he was alone and rested.

Aziraphale sat down on the other side of the bed close to the edge, on top of the blankets.

Crowley told himself not to feel let down. Then he saw the book he had was _The Sound and the Fury._ “You brought _that_ to read in bed?” he asked.

“You know what this is? I thought you didn’t read,” Aziraphale said, putting on his reading glasses.

“I don’t, but I _can_. And why are you wearing glasses? Your eyesight is perfect, and if it’s not you can make it so.” The glasses were cute, but there was no reason for him.

Aziraphale stared down at the book and cleared his throat. “They make me look proper,” he mumbled.

Crowley cackled, throwing his head back on the pillow. “Seriously?” Of all the ridiculous things. At least Crowley actually needed his sunglasses to blend in and avoid exorcisms.

“Aren’t you supposed to be sleeping?” he asked pointedly.

“How long have you been wearing glasses without needing to?”

Aziraphale ignored his question and opened the book. “Go to sleep. You better not snore.”

“We don’t need to breathe either, you know. Why would I do that?” Plus, he was too cool to snore. 

Aziraphale started reading.

Crowley shifted around, putting a hand on his chest and his other arm over his head on the pillow. What he said last night wasn’t a lie; these bodies truly did get into the habit of sleep if you let them, and since the apocalypse, he slept as regularly as a human. He didn’t sleep for a few days, and only slept a couple hours last night, so he honestly was exhausted tonight. He never shared a bed before, but the mattress was as inviting as usual, and Aziraphale’s presence was a nice comfort. Aziraphale was probably already lost in the book, anyway. Crowley dropped off before Aziraphale got to page 3.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was so happy to read how excited you all were to see this is a thing. Thank you :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This covers chapters 5 and (half of) 6 in _Pretend For Me._ If you have not read the main story, it's now finished, so I highly recommend you do so before continuing.
> 
> I...know I didn't update this for a year lol so you should probably go back and reread this part of the main story, anyway :P

It was weird waking up next to someone in a bed, and it was even weirder knowing that he’d been watched during the night. Crowley never shared a bed with someone in 6,000 years and it made him feel self-conscious and awkward in ways he really didn’t feel like thinking about. He didn’t know how humans constantly put themselves in vulnerable positions and didn’t even think twice about it.

“Did you lie here and watch me sleep all night like a great big weirdo?” he asked Aziraphale with more irritation in his voice than he’d intended.

Aziraphale sat up. “I finished the book and during the night, you unknowingly put your hand on my arm. I didn’t want to wake you by moving, so I stayed put.”

Crowley held back a whine of agony. Okay, so his body totally betrayed him and tried huddling close to Aziraphale in his sleep. He wished he’d known it would do that before he invited Aziraphale into his bed, but it wasn’t like he had previous experiences sharing a bed. He sat up and rubbed his eyes for an excuse to hide his face. “Did I?” he mumbled. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologize,” Aziraphale said casually. “It was an unconscious action.”

“You couldn’t go to sleep, too?” Crowley looked at him wearily. “You had to just stare?”

He frowned lightly. “I tried but I couldn’t. I still don’t have the hang of it.”

“You seemed fine the other night,” Crowley said. He couldn’t stop his embarrassment from making him feel annoyed.

“I’m not in the habit like you, so my body still doesn’t crave it,” Aziraphale explained and then got out of bed. “I’ll, er, just read on the sofa again for tonight?” he asked, picking up on his discomfort.

“Yeah,” Crowley grumbled. He didn’t like pushing Aziraphale away, but if his stupid body was going to try to move towards him during sleep, it was for the best if they didn’t do this again. He was angry with himself for not anticipating that he’d make an arse of himself. He got out of bed and left the room to the solace of his plant room. There, he could be away from Aziraphale and revel in the plants’ trembling at his foul mood. He was going to reveal himself if he weren’t careful, and while he considered this situation an opportunity to get Aziraphale to fall for him, he didn’t want his own feelings to be totally obvious in case it didn’t work. It was a hard balancing act. Plus, Aziraphale was never a fan of moving too fast and Crowley didn’t want to shock and repel him with his feelings. Ugh. What a mess.

* * *

After they received that odd phone call from Adam, the two of them parted ways for the day. Crowley needed time to think. It was disconcerting that Gabriel called Adam to ask him about the two of them. Were they really not being obvious enough? Would they have to snog for an hour in public or something? Crowley would probably melt, and not in a cutesy way, but literally melt into goo and cause a scene if that happened. He was barely keeping it together as it was with limited physical contact. He was an absolute bloody moron earlier and tried to hint that maybe they could kiss with tongue and Aziraphale totally shut him down. That sucked. It took an hour of walking around in the cold for Crowley’s face to stop burning after that. Why did human bodies have so many physical responses to emotions? It was really irritating and inconvenient. 

Aside from that, the incident seriously shot down his hopes that Aziraphale could want him. It was still possible, but rejection stung, no matter how many times Aziraphale did it to him…

Crowley stopped walking, halting in front of a clothing store. There was a weight in his chest that had been there since this morning and it only grew the more he thought about everything.

But he wasn’t a pessimist. Maybe he should try to look at things from another perspective. Okay, so Adam asked if angel spit were like holy water and hurt demons, and then Aziraphale and Crowley joked about that after they got off the phone with him. Crowley said they wouldn’t actually know for sure if his spit hurt him since they didn’t kiss with tongue. In retrospect, maybe that wasn’t as smooth of a transition as he thought it was in his head. Knowing Aziraphale, he probably got caught off guard. He was the type of person who needed years of mental preparation for a friendly dinner in a fancy restaurant , after all. That didn’t necessarily mean he’d  _ never _ want to kiss that deeply, right? Right.

Crowley just had to work on his pick-up lines, or something. No, what was he thinking? Aziraphale was too smart to be moved by something like that. He would only look like more of a prat if he tried trite pick-up lines. He was a demon older than time! He was too cool for any of that. But he still didn’t know how to naturally bring up the idea of kissing some more. He never had to seduce humans for any assignment and here he was, trying to start a relationship after 6,000 years on earth. It wasn’t easy. He had no idea if Aziraphale found him attractive, or if people did in general. Crowley enjoyed a suave, mysterious aesthetic, to be  _ on-brand  _ as humans said during this time period, but he didn’t know if that made him attractive. He never even gave a shit until now.

Ugh. Humans had difficulty doing things like this, too, but he didn’t want to ask them for any help. He may be a little clueless, but he wasn’t about to go on online forums to get dating advice. He still had standards and didn’t want to lose every ounce of his dignity. Besides, it wasn’t like he could fully explain this situation to any human. He was alone in this. The fact that he only had acquaintances and business partners and no real friends besides Aziraphale to talk to underscored how isolating being a demon really was. Not that this was news, but...

Crowley sighed. He needed to cause some low-level mischief to make himself feel better. He decided to go back to his car and miracle his laptop in his lap to bring down YouTube for the whole day to make everyone feel as lost and listless as he did. They would become bored and frustrated that they couldn’t sit and watch cat videos or makeup tutorials or drama videos all day long. Serves them right for, he didn’t know, but something. The task distracted him for a good while, and he enjoyed listening to music in his car while he made people fruitlessly refresh YouTube only to be met with the same error message over and over. Yeah. This felt good. This was why none of the other demons could mess with people the way he could; they didn’t know the daily habits and little pleasures of humans that they’d come to rely on. He wasn’t even sure how many demons knew what YouTube was. By the time he was finished, the sun had set and he closed his laptop with a satisfied smirk. There. At least he was somewhat productive today and didn’t think about Aziraphale the entire time.

Speaking of him, though, Crowley thought back to the weird call Adam got from Gabriel. He really didn’t know what else they could do to convince the archangels of their relationship besides getting physical or something, but, wait, he was getting that customized ring from that jeweler. Both of them wearing rings might convince the archangels, or at least help trick them. He should go check and see if the ring was ready yet.

The little demonic push he gave the jeweler must have been enough to motivate him to work overtime, because the man smiled when Crowley walked in.

“Ah, great timing!” he said. “You know, your design was so unique that I just dropped everything else and worked on it.”

“Really?” Crowley asked in a friendly tone and with knowing smirk. “Let me see.” When he saw the ring inside the box, his smirk grew. “That’s a job well done, eh? My ang—er, partner will really appreciate it.” At least he hoped so. He felt less sure of his decision as he drove back to his flat with the jewelry box in his pocket and he felt new sympathy for people. It must have been one of the circles of Hell to work up the nerve to propose to someone for real, and he knew how terrible Hell was.

When he returned to his flat, Aziraphale was already there.

“Where were you all day?” he asked.

“Wiling,” Crowley said, not wanting to recall his moping about. He took off his suit jacket. “Needed to do some bad.”

“And what bad did you do?”

He smirked. “YouTube is down and won’t be back up until tomorrow night. The humans are already whining at their phones and bored out of their minds.”

“YouTube?” Aziraphale asked without an ounce of comprehension in his eyes.

His smirk dropped. “Ugh, never mind.” He was in love with such a fuddy-duddy.

Aziraphale set aside the book that had been in his lap and stood up from the sofa. “Well, you’re finished wiling and I’m finished reading. Perhaps we could do something for the Plan tonight?”

_ Okay. Stay calm.  _ “If you want. Good timing, too.” He dug in his pocket and then tossed the jewelry box to him. “I just got back from getting this.”

Aziraphale clumsily caught the box, looking befuddled, and opened it. His features smoothed out and his lips parted. Pink rose to his face. He didn’t say anything.

_ Oh jeez, oh shit.  _ “Usually both people wear rings if they’re married,” Crowley mumbled an explanation. He stuffed hands into his pockets and cocked his hip to the side to look cool. “It, uh, would be weird if only I wore one…” He’d understand, surely. He was a smart angel when he chose to be.

The ring came out exactly as he wanted.. It was set in white gold with snake heads on either side of a white fire opal in the center, framed by black opal, and trimmed on the very edge of the center disk was gold, like a halo. 

“Who made this?” Aziraphale asked in astonishment.

“Someone owed me a favor. It was nothing.” He didn’t want to admit to actually going to a jewelry shop like an actual boyfriend or husband would.

Aziraphale‘s eyes were big and he kept blinking down at the ring. He slipped it on in disbelief. “Oh, dear boy, it’s lovely,” he breathed.

Crowley knew him long enough to know he was being genuine. He always felt flustered when Aziraphale was happy because of something he did. “It was nothing,” he said again with another shrug, face turning red, red, red.

“Good thinking,” Aziraphale said faintly, appearing a little flustered, himself. “W-why don’t we go and stargaze? You always liked the stars.” 

Crowley perked up. Aziraphale liked the ring enough to want to spend time with him? Oh wait, it was for the Plan, wasn’t it? Well, who cares, he wouldn’t turn down an opportunity to stargaze. He readily agreed and sat up on the rooftop with Aziraphale, holding hands. For the Plan. He’d turned out the lights around London so they could see the sky better. Aziraphale scolded him, but Crowley genuinely didn’t care. Even if it was for their ruse, it was nice being able to hold Aziraphale’s hand while he looked up at some of his creations.

They started reminiscing a little and Crowley brought up when the bookshop first opened. “You know what else I’m thinking about?”

“What?”

“That the archangels would’ve known about us much sooner if they’d seen me with the flowers and chocolates when your shop opened, remember?” Maybe it was better that the moment was ruined. Aziraphale might have caught on...then again, probably not.

“Oh, Lord, do I?” Aziraphale groaned. “You had given me such a fright because I was certain Gabriel would turn around and see you there.”

“I wasn’t bothered,” Crowley said. “Besides, if I hadn’t listened in, you would’ve been recalled to Heaven.”

A crinkle formed in between Aziraphale’s eyebrows. “What did you have to do with my staying?”

“Oh, did I never tell you?” Hm, he guessed he didn’t. “I just followed Gabriel and made sure he overheard a fake conversation I had with an imp from Hell. I said you always thwarted my plans and I was happy to hear you were being recalled to Heaven. The dumb sod bought it.” It was fun tricking him, more enjoyable than this time around, anyway.

“No, you never told me. You didn’t want me to leave,” Aziraphale said.

His instinct was to deny it. “Wuh, well Michael was gonna be your replacement, and they’re a…” No, he should tell the truth, in case the archangels were listening, and he wanted Aziraphale to know. “I mean, yes, of course I wanted you to stay,” he nodded. Okay, okay, this was good. They were having a moment and connecting. The stars were nice. This counted as a romantic setting. Time to make a move. He could do this. He pulled their joined hands up and kissed Aziraphale’s knuckle. “Of course I did,” he said, quieter, despite the loud pounding of his heart. Stupid human body. He wished he could turn off his heart and ability to blush without discorporating.

Aziraphale seemed to be lost in thought, his gaze off to the side.“I suppose you did,” Aziraphale said vaguely.

Crowley wished he knew what he was thinking. He didn’t know if that was a good or bad reaction. He lowered their hands and looked back at the stars. Back then, he didn’t know what he would have done if Aziraphale went back to Heaven. He already knew he loved him by that point. He thought they’d always spend life on earth together and loathed the thought of never seeing him again. Besides, he knew Aziraphale genuinely didn’t want to leave earth, either, especially not with his new bookshop.

“I don’t know how Gabriel didn’t find out back then,” Aziraphale spoke. “I told him you were wily, and cunning, and brilliant. He did remark that it sounded like I liked you.”

Crowley’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. Aziraphale was complimenting him to an archangel over 200 years ago and yet he acted like they weren’t friends in 2019. Crowley knew he was full of shit, but didn’t know if Aziraphale did. “Did you know it, back then?”

“Know what?” he asked curiously.

“That you did like me?”

_ “I don’t even like you!” _

_ “You doooo!” _

Aziraphale’s face fell and he talked quickly. “I told you I didn’t mean what I’d said at the band—”

“I know,” Crowley cut in. He didn’t mean to upset him. “I’m just asking if you let yourself think we were friends back then.”

“By that point? Yes,” he answered. He blinked slowly, his gaze intense, but kind. “For the record, deep down, I always liked you,” he said softly.

Crowley didn’t know what face he was making, but he felt it doing stuff he didn’t like. He’d taken off his glasses for the stars but it was time to put them back on. “Urgh. There’s only so much sap a demon can take,” he said, not because he was grossed out or anything, but because spending most of 6,000 years in and out of Hell meant being with people who never said anything like that and he was unaccustomed to this.

Aziraphale looked like he didn’t buy the act. 

_ Damn him. Um, not literally. _

“You’re married to an angel; you should have known what you’d gotten yourself into, dear boy,” he said smoothly, dropping whatever other thought he’d had.

Crowley sighed in relief. “Satan help me, but I did, angel.” He knew exactly the type of person Aziraphale was and would gladly accept more sap, from him and him alone. Wasn’t that part of love anyway, being ridiculous with one person in a way you’d never let yourself behave with anyone else? That was his understanding. Aziraphale made him  _ want  _ to act in ways he’d never do otherwise, or say things he’d never dream of saying to anyone else. He accepted this long ago, begrudgingly then, but he was more at peace with it now. Loving Aziraphale was a part of his life that would never go away. They continued to look at the sky in comfortable silence and Crowley felt much better now than he did earlier today. Aziraphale’s hand was warm and his own heart was beating heavily, but in a good way now. Sometimes the things human bodies did felt nice, after all. They decided to leave the rooftop when the sun began to rise and Crowley turned the power back on in London with a snap of his fingers. They walked down to his flat, hands still held, and Crowley saw the peaceful look on Aziraphale’s face and got a little brave.

In front of his flat, he wrapped his arms around Aziraphale’s waist. He cupped his round cheeks and kissed him before he could get discouraged by the rise of his eyebrows. Aziraphale placed his hands on Crowley’s chest, but he wasn’t pushing him away.

Crowley found that he liked holding Aziraphale’s face. He could feel the rising flush to his cheeks on his palms. Blushing could be good, yeah? It wasn’t a bad sign. He kept the kiss relatively chaste, though, because he was always afraid of scaring Aziraphale away. He experimented with lightly sucking his lip. Aziraphale didn’t move away, or at all. It was like kissing a statue. A warm and soft statue, but a statue nonetheless. What was he thinking about? Did he like this, dislike it, or was it all simply part of a job for him? He gave no indications of anything.

Crowley pulled back, but not before placing a small peck on his lips. He couldn’t help himself because he was starting to really like the feeling of their lips together.

Aziraphale was silently staring at him. 

Crowley didn’t think it was a natural reaction to your supposed husband kissing you, but he didn’t even know if the archangels were watching right now. “Still feel nothing?” he whispered. 

Aziraphale thought for a moment, but shook his head.

Crowley let go of him. So much for that. As for getting Aziraphale to want to be with him, he had no idea where that stood. He needed alone time now. “All right. I need to go cause trouble. I can’t be seen spending too much time around you, but I’ll be back.”

Aziraphale nodded. He was totally quiet.

“You okay?”

Another nod.

He wasn’t convinced, but didn’t want to push him. “If you say so.”

* * *

Crowley wasn’t sure how that kiss went in Aziraphale’s mind, so he didn’t know how to feel today. He kept going over his reaction (or non-reaction) in his head, but overthinking never did him any good. Aziraphale could have acted like an ice sculpture while being kissed because he disliked it, or because it was still new for them to do that and he didn’t tend to react to anything new very well. Both were probably in Crowley’s estimation. Once again, he found himself walking around London and looking to take out his frustration on the humans with some low-grade trouble. He went with one of his favorites: supergluing a coin to the ground and watching people trying to pick it up. That never failed to put a smile on his face. The range of emotions people felt from joy to finding a coin, to confusion, to rage and not being able to retrieve it, had him muffling his laughter in a nearby alleyway. Aziraphale would probably roll his eyes at this, but hey, at least Crowley wasn’t hurting anyone. He was just pissing people off with a prank. There were worse things a frustrated demon could do.

Crowley was chuckling at the sight of a man looking around in confusion, like he knew he was being pranked, when suddenly, something felt off. He stopped laughing and stood up straight. He turned to see if anyone was there, but before he could do anything more, hands grabbed at his arms and pulled him farther into the alley. He grunted in surprise and twisted out of his assailants’ grasps, fangs bared instinctually.

It was Hastur, eyes as black as ever, accompanied by some demon Crowley didn’t recognize. Maybe he was Ligur’s replacement.

“Do you mind?” Crowley hissed. “I was creating a steady stream of human annoyance over there!” he said in irritation, although his heartbeat picked up in his chest. The last thing he expected today was to see demons, let alone Hastur. Whatever they were doing here, it couldn’t be good.

“Please, that was a bunch of nonsense,” Hastur said with a glare. “You chose to defend humans, anyway, so don’t try to impress me with any little trick you pull to try to convince me you’re leading them to enough sin.”

He...had a point, there. Crowley adjusted the sunglasses on the bridge of his nose. “I don’t work for you anymore, so I don’t really care what you think of my work. Why are you here, anyway?”

“We’ve been hearing some disturbing things about you,” Hastur said, his expression somehow turning more disgusted than usual. 

“We heard you’re getting  _ soft,” _ the other demon spat.

Crowley shoved his hands in his pockets with a shrug. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Don’t play dumb,” Hastur said gruffly. “You’re a lot of things, Crowley, but dumb’s never been one of them. I learned that the hard way.”

“Thanks,” he said with a shit-eating grin.

Hastur’s mouth pulled up into a sneer. “Don’t get coy. We know you’re in a...a  _ relationship  _ with that angel,” he said, like he was still struggling to believe it.

Crowley didn’t know how they found out about it, but he couldn’t deny it. What did he care, anyway? It wasn’t like he wanted or needed Hell’s approval. “Yep, we’re married and all,” he said with a nod. 

They both shuddered.

“You sick fuck,” the other demon snarled.

“Yep, that’s me, the sickest of all fucks,” Crowley said casually. “Are we done here? Is that all you wanted?”

“You have gotten soft, after all,” Hastur said. “It’s unnatural, demons being with angels, demons  _ liking  _ anyone at all.”

“Who gives a shit?” he asked impatiently. “I’m not an employee of Hell anymore.”

“But you’re still a demon,” Hastur insisted, “and doing—doing— _ whatever _ you and that angel do together is a betrayal to your kind.”

“Didn’t I do that already with the whole apocalypse thing?” he cocked his head to the side.

“It’s worse than that!” he snapped. 

“What are you gonna do about it?” Crowley leaned forward. “I’m immune to holy water, remember?” he smiled, showing his teeth. 

“That’s true,” Hastur said, but reached into his dirt trench coat and pulled out a crowbar. He smirked, lifting his arm. “But we can still hurt that human body of yours.”

Okay. That was true. He didn’t feel like getting the crap beaten out of him. He had to think fast. What would make his relationship with Aziraphale okay? “All right, all right, I’ll tell you,” Crowley said quickly and held up his hands. “I haven’t told anyone about this and I don’t want word getting around, okay? If he hears about this, the whole thing’s off.”

“Who?” Hastur asked, lowering his arm.

“Aziraphale, the angel. This, this whole thing isn’t  _ real. _ Not to me, anyway.”

“Then why are you doing it?” asked the other demon.

“Uh, hellooo? I’m seducing him into Falling!” he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “He might not die by hellfire anymore, but I’ve been playing the long con for years now! If he devotes himself to the Damned, then is that not enough for the Almighty to cast him out?” He loathed the thought of Aziraphale ever losing his grace and his wings burning and charring to black like his wings did, but he delivered this all with confidence. His pulse calmed down a little when he saw Hastur and his accomplice share a look. “He still doesn’t  _ completely  _ trust me, though, those bastard angels are always fidgety around demons, but I think I’m getting him there.”

“Why team up with him to save earth but betray him later?” Hastur asked.

“It was convenient to use him for that,” Crowley said. “I want earth here because of the music and clothes. He was a tool in that situation, nothing more. I may not work for you lot anymore, Hastur, but that doesn’t mean I  _ like  _ angels.”

“But you’re supposed to be immune to holy water because of some soul-mixing bullshit, right?” the other demon asked. “If you’re faking, how’s that work?”

“Ahh, uh, fucking!” Crowley came up with. “Yeah, fucking is what counts. You just need to shag an angel, apparently. And we do lots of that.”

“Ugh, I get it, shut the fuck up,” the demon nearly retched. 

Hastur was unnerved, but looked at him thoughtfully. “If you made him Fall, you’d be the first to do that to an angel besides the Almighty.”

“Exactly,” Crowley smiled. “No demon has as much contact with an angel as I do, so I should be the one to make an angel lose their grace.”

“Well. Fooling an angel for several years on end to cut them off from the Almighty is impressive,” he admitted begrudgingly. 

“See?” Crowley wiggled his eyebrows above his sunglasses. “Pfft. You thought I’m going soft. And for an angel. C’mon. Didn’t think you were that stupid.”

He took it a touch too far, because then Hastur’s lip twitched and he said, “Then let me give you a reminder to not even  _ think  _ about liking any second you spend with that angel.” He gave a nod, and the other demon’s fist collided with Crowley’s jaw in quick flash.

Pain burst in the side of his jaw and he instinctively swung back, and he felt the bones of the other demon’s nose crack under his fist and heard his shout of pain. Hastur moved in and smacked Crowley in the head with the crowbar that it felt like his brain buzzed around his skull, and the stinging in his jaw and explosion of sharp pain in his head had him falling and hurting his head even more when he collapsed to the ground. Intense physical pain wasn’t something he’d felt in years, and it sounded stupid, but he forgot how much pain, well,  _ hurt.  _ It hurt a lot! So much that the world was getting fuzzy. He would have been more concerned about that if he could form a coherent thought, but the pain in his head came in deep throbs, and he grunted when sharp kicks stabbed his rib cage. Hastur was saying something, but Crowley’s ears were ringing. The bastard couldn’t even give a proper evil speech without incapacitating his victims. There were retreating footsteps, and Crowley laid there alone in the middle of the alley, far enough in that no one passing by on the pavement would see unless they went inside looking for someone. He had forgotten how brutal a head injury could be and he couldn’t keep his eyes open for long without the pain increasing so much that he felt nauseated, even though no food was in his stomach. The trifecta of shooting pain in his head, jaw, and ribs zapped the energy from him and he couldn’t even focus long enough to heal himself.

Crowley tried to stay calm and breathed as deeply and steadily as he could, fighting back nausea and waves of pain. Eventually, he was able to sit up slowly. He opened his eyes. One of the lenses of his glasses was shattered. It was getting dark. How long had he been lying down? He sat there for a few moments, just breathing, and thinking. He was beaten even when he said he didn’t actually care about Aziraphale. If Hell found out about his feelings before the apocalypse, they would have killed him. He always knew that, but the knowledge was right in front of his face now. He shuddered. He used to hate being so afraid of Hell, but here he was, injured and trembling because they went after him despite his being unemployed. He just wanted them to leave him alone and it was seriously disappointing to think he wasn’t really free now…

He didn’t want to think about what problems this could cause in the future. The point was that they believed him, so mission accomplished, he supposed. He needed to get back to Aziraphale. He hoped he could heal him, but Crowley simply wanted to be near him right now, too. Demons were supposed to have a high pain tolerance and all that, but he hated feeling pain. He hated being afraid.

He hauled himself up off the ground slowly. He considered it a victory that he could stand and open his eyes without getting dizzy and falling back down. He could have tried to heal himself, but his instincts drew him to Aziraphale, and he’d used his powers to transport in front of the bookshop before he knew it. It was okay. He knew Aziraphale would help him now, if he could. He knocked rapidly on the door.

* * *

It felt blissful to have Aziraphale’s healing hands on him, for more reason than one. He didn’t like making him worry, but Crowley did sort of enjoy how concerned Aziraphale was for his well-being. It wasn’t like many people gave a shit about him. It was embarrassing to admit to getting beaten up by Hastur and some rando, though. Crowley blamed himself for being off his game.

Aziraphale’s frightened expression had not changed now that Crowley was healed and fine. “Crowley,” he said sorrowfully, “this is my fault.”

“Huh?” Crowley looked up, befuddled 

“This is all because of my lie to the angels,” he despaired, his blue eyes widening with horror. “We can think of something else,” he said frantically. “We can think of another lie—”

“Woah, woah,” Crowley held up his hands, cutting him off. “What are you talking about? We can’t drop this now! They’ll never believe a second lie and kill us for real. Don’t compromise the plan because of this stupid incident.” He meant every word he said, but he also had no desire to give up this opportunity to pretend to be Aziraphale’s husband, either. Maybe that was selfish, but damn it, he wanted to hold his hand more and didn’t want his own stupidity with Hastur to ruin that.

Aziraphale put his head in his hands. “I trapped us even more, then,” he fretted, his shoulders hunched. If his wings were out, they would surely be drooping.   
There was a little twist in Crowley’s chest. He saw his guilt complex kicking in and wanted to stop it. He didn’t want Aziraphale to look like that over him. “Hey, demons being arseholes isn’t your fault, and I’ve dealt with worse. If it weren’t for your life, they would have tried holy water on me instead for loving an angel.”

Aziraphale’s face was fully covered by his hands. “But if it weren’t for my lie, they wouldn’t think you love an angel in the first place.”

That answered the question as to whether or not Aziraphale was catching on to his feelings: nope. Crowley was partly disappointed, but at least that meant he didn’t actually reveal himself too much by kissing him this morning. A bit of a win-lose situation. Did he really have to try harder, though? He didn’t know how many more hints he could drop without outright confessing.

“Oh, what was I thinking?” Aziraphale continued. “And now we can’t even break up.”

Crowley’s lips parted. “Break up?” he asked, voice scratchy. Why would they do that?

“Why didn’t you call me?” Aziraphale lowered his hands and looked at him. “I could have helped you.”

Crowley snorted. “You, fighting off demons?”

His face hardened and he put his hands on his hips. “Why is that idea funny?” he asked petulantly.

“I can’t picture it,” he admitted. “You’ve never fought anyone.” And Aziraphale’s huffy little stance right now wasn’t helping him imagine him fighting.

“I could if I had to,” he said indignantly. 

He snickered. He couldn’t help it. He loved the offended look on Aziraphale’s face.

“I was given a flaming sword for a reason,” he said with narrowed eyes.

“Yeah, and you gave it away,” Crowley reminded him.

“Because I  _ wanted  _ to. I fought in the war in Heaven.” He shook his head. “The point is that I could have rescued you,” he said, going back to the core of their conversation.

Crowley didn’t want to seem pathetic and weak and in need of rescuing. “I don’t need rescuing,” he told him in irritation.

“Clearly,” he said dryly. “How long were you in that alley?”

He didn’t have a response to that. He made a face and stood up from the old, lump sofa in the back of the shop. “You’re not my guardian angel,” he glared at him from behind his glasses.

Aziraphale’s cheeks were flushing with annoyance. “Well I didn’t need you when you rescued me those times, but I was appreciative nonetheless and didn’t make a fuss about it.”

“You  _ so  _ needed me!” Crowley shot back. He didn’t know why the fuck they were having this argument. It was petty and pointless, but he was so on edge recently, and of course, only more so after having the shit knocked out of him. “You were about to have your head chopped off over crepes, like the colossal idiot you are.” His brain caught up with his mouth too slowly. Fuck, he didn’t mean to call him names.

“I could have used a miracle if I really wanted to,” Aziraphale said, unfazed.

And as much as Crowley didn’t want to hurt him, he got even more pissed at how unimpressed Aziraphale was. He was in a worse mood than he thought. “Then why didn’t you? Oh, that’s right, you were reprimanded by Gabriel for using too many of them up.”

Aziraphale’s eyes were steel. “You’re the one who didn’t watch your head today.”

As if he needed a reminder. “I was distracted!” he hissed.

“By what?”

“By—” he waved his hand in between them. He stopped himself before he could say anything more.

“What do I have to do with anything?” Ever oblivious.

“Ugh!” he groaned. “You’re insufferable.”

“I’m not the one being immature here,” he said coolly. “All I did was say you should have called me. I’m your friend. I could have helped.”

Crowley put his hands in his pockets. Aziraphale was right. He didn’t say or do anything wrong. Crowley was just being an insecure sod. His temper subsided and he backed down. The conversation was much less heated after that, with Aziraphale reassuring him he could defend himself, but he started to worry that their plan would fail again.

“What happens when Hell realizes I’m not going to Fall from your supposed seduction?” he asked.

He’d just have to deal with it, then, because there was no way they could make a new plan now. “Then if they come, I’ll say I failed and the Almighty must be more fucked up than we all thought if She’s okay with an angel fucking a demon.”

Pink bloomed on his cheeks. “May you be forgiven,” he muttered.

Crowley rolled his eyes. “Not this again.”

“I’m only worried that the truth will be revealed, somehow,” he said with a furrow between his brow.

Crowley saw how genuinely nervous he was about this and grew sympathetic. His angel, always a worrier. “I know you are. But we made it this far, yeah? Maybe the Almighty’s on our side, after all,” he said, not putting anything past Her. He never would. “Or maybe She doesn’t care enough to stop us. If She does, eh, it’s still been a good run.” Those kisses were worth it. “I’d rather do what I want than live in fear of Hell,” he said, despite what happened earlier, because what would worrying do him? A fat lot of nothing. “Surviving the apocalypse taught me that.” He’d rather risk another confrontation with demons than to give up being with Aziraphale. He’d spent too damned long apart from him.

Aziraphale was quiet in thought for a long moment. “It won’t be an issue soon enough, anyway,” he said, sounding like he was okay with them continuing the plan. “After we break up, Hell will leave you alone.”

Crowley couldn’t stop his face from falling. “Why would we break up?” he blurted out.

Aziraphale was surprised. “Why wouldn’t we?” he asked with an incredulous laugh. “We can’t keep up this ruse until the end of time.”

Oof, that stung. Worse than the kicks to his ribs. “But.” He swallowed. “But what about them? And our soul-mixing thing?”

“We’re making this up as we go along,” he said lightly. “We can say that once a demon and angel’s essences mix, there’s no going back. There’s no way they’d know whether or not that’s true,” he said confidently.

Crowley shouldn’t have been as upset as he felt. Aziraphale didn’t promise him forever. But… “But if we break up as soon as we know Heaven believes us, wouldn’t that look suspicious?”

“Good point,” Aziraphale hummed thoughtfully. “Then we can do this for a little while longer, and then break up.” Staying together wasn’t even an option to him.

He felt idiotic. Why did he assume Aziraphale wouldn’t break up with him as soon as possible? Unless he developed feelings for him, which he clearly wasn’t, there was no reason why he’d want them to stay together. This was always going to have an expiration date. Crowley was going to have to go back to pretending he wasn’t in love with him. He looked down at the floorboards. “Oh. Okay.” He had nothing else to say. Nothing wanted, anyway.

“For good measure,” Aziraphale said, “I can stay out of your hair for awhile. Put some distance between us so our breakup will be believable, too.”

_ Satan, why don’t you keep twisting that knife, angel? _ “What? No!” he said angrily.

“Why not?” he asked sincerely.

“You don’t need to stay away from me.” Hadn’t they done that for enough centuries? “You’re being ridiculous.”

“But think of your safety, Crowley,” he emphasized.

“Already have. Don’t care,” he easily dismissed.

“Really, now,” Aziraphale said in exasperation. “I’m trying to help. What kind of friend would I be if I let you be in danger?”

Crowley wanted Aziraphale to stop making decisions for him and acting like some holy martyr. He was a demon, not some human child. He wanted to be cared for, but not babied. He knew how dangerous Hell was and knew what he was doing, most of the time. He stepped forward and pointed at Aziraphale’s chest. “No, cut that martur bollocks out. I know Hell better than you do, Aziraphale, and I  _ chose  _ to be friends with you all these years, knowing the risk, because I  _ want  _ to. Don’t insult me by thinking me naive.” 

Aziraphale stared right at him. He lowered the finger pointed at his chest. “I wasn’t trying to imply that,” he said patiently. “I only wonder if it’s truly wise to keep seeing each other, when such a risk remains?”

“I don’t care,” he said honestly. He really didn’t. He just knew he didn’t want to go who-knows how long without talking to Aziraphale after they broke up. He considered their unabashed friendship one of the rewards of thwarting Armageddon and he wasn’t going to give it up. His voice lowered in warning. “If you leave and don’t talk to me for centuries again, like in the old days, you’re an even bigger bastard than I thought.”

Aziraphale blinked owlishly, stunned.

The fact that he would even consider this, and not the effects it would have on Crowley, made his insides churn. All that time Aziraphale stayed away from him because he thought it’d be the best for both of them, and he never thought of how Crowley felt about it. For a smart angel, he was so dense. Crowley shook his head and walked a couple steps away, running a hand through his hair. He swallowed down the tightness in his throat. “I thought we were past that,” he mumbled. He took a second to compose himself. “We’re already going to break up,” he forced the words from his lips, “so don’t leave me.”  _ Too revealing. Abort.  _ “It’d be overkill. It’ll be fine. Hell will get the idea and you won’t have to worry your little angelic head about me,” he said, the words bitter on his tongue. He didn’t want to hold anything against Aziraphale from their past. On most days, he didn’t, but his chest was aching from knowing for sure this was temporary. Aziraphale would break up with him. And there he was, getting a stupid, special ring made for him...

“All right,” Aziraphale conceded eventually, although he looked unhappy about it.

Crowley huffed out a breath. “Right. That’s settled, then.” He went from desperately wanting to see Aziraphale when he was physically injured to wanting solitude to nurse his broken heart. He didn’t even fucking care how that sounded. He had a horrible day and wanted to curl up in bed and pull the covers over his eyes and wish the world away, like humans did when the love of their lives upset them. He wanted any archangel who was potentially watching to think he was staying with Aziraphale for the night, though, so he decided to go up to the bed kept in the flat above the bookshop. Aziraphale told him it was 200 years-old and never used, but when Crowley went upstairs, it didn’t look particularly dusty, actually. 

He shrugged and took off his shoes and glasses.  _ What a fucking day.  _ He got under the covers and laid his head on the pillow...until a scent drifted up his nostrils. He sat up abruptly and inhaled deeply, but then choked.

Why, in the name of Satan, did Aziraphale’s bed smell like  _ lust? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi :) I hope you all like this and that I’m striking a balance between giving enough context but not rehashing too much. I'm publishing this almost at 1 am soooo I hope there aren't super stupid errors.
> 
> Say hi to me on tumblr if you ever wanna ask about updates [@obsessivelollipoplalala](https://obsessivelollipoplalala.tumblr.com) ~~


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